


can't you see my heart burnin' (does it feel cold baby)

by eatsumus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Banter After Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Swap, Body Worship, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Breathplay, Bukkake, Cockwarming, Come Eating, Come Slut Miya Atsumu, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Confessions, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Somnophilia, Creampie, Crying During Sex, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Dry Orgasm, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Humor, Intercrural Sex, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Massage, Master/Slave, Masturbating, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mild Verbal Humiliation, Minor Injuries, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Pet Play, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Miya Atsumu, Rich Sakusa Kiyoomi, Rimming, Role Reversal, Romantic Fluff, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sakusa Kiyoomi has Big Dick, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference (Hints of it), Size Kink, Size Queen Miya Atsumu, Social Media, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Stockings, Stripping, Tickling, Top Sakusa Kiyoomi, Unintentional SugarDaddy Sakusa Kiyoomi, Wall Sex, formal wear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 76,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatsumus/pseuds/eatsumus
Summary: "Atsumu can’t remember a time he trusted someone this much. He can’t remember a time he’s felt this much pleasure.He can’t.Sakusaruinedhim."alternative: a kinktober 2020 entry about that time atsumu and sakusa body swapped and it's downhill from there.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 628
Kudos: 1675





	1. all of the heat of my desire (yes, i feel wonderful)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my kinktober 2020 sakuatsu offering,,,, or like,, idk. but this universe is connected to each other so!!! summary probably gonna change later hehe. ciao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 01: BODY SWAP**

_Waking up today was a mistake_ , Atsumu thinks, looking at himself— or supposed to be himself— reflected on the mirror.

This is, for the lack of a better word, the _worse_ that could have happened to him. He’s seen a lot of these kinds of movies these days but he really did not fucking think it would happen to him. Or even thought that it would happen _at all._ Is he still asleep? Dreaming? A nightmare? That would have been just fucking amazing but a pinch to his—is it even _his?—_ cheeks confirms that no, it’s not a dream and that fucking hurts and wow, this assholes skin is soft as fuck.

Atsumu is fucked.

Because he’s in Sakusa Kiyoomi’s body and this is the _worst_ day ever and it’s only 6 in the morning. _Fuck._

_Wait,_ Atsumu looks at the reflection in the mirror, eyes widening in panic. Does this mean Sakusa Kiyoomi is in Atsumu’s body? Did they really swap bodies? Or is Sakusa in another person’s body? Hopefully some unknown stranger. _Ugh_.

Atsumu is filled with questions but first— a shower. He feels kind of filthy and isn’t that just laughable because Sakusa is probably mysophobic and showers thrice a day or something. It’s just, being in another person’s body is creepy, no matter how fit the body is. It’s also a bit jarring because Sakusa is taller—not much!—than Atsumu and Atsumu has to get used to this perspective lest he wants to just randomly trip or something. _Ugh_.

That’s his mood today: _ugh_.

Anyways, _shower_.

Atsumu tries to not… oogle on the body he’s inhabiting but for someone who looks lanky clothed, Sakusa Kiyoomi under all that clothing has all perfect defined muscles on the right places and it’s fucking up with Atsumu’s libido. Granted, they are on the same team and are professional athletes so of course this is a given, Atsumu knows. He’s even seen this body briefly while they all shower in the locker rooms but seeing and touching is different and Atsumu’s—Sakusa’s?—turning red from head to toe. Huh.

Willing Sakusa’s body to not react on the filthy thoughts Atsumu is thinking, Atsumu washes up quickly, ignores the drool almost escaping past his lips when he sees Sakusa’s dick because— that’s one pretty and big dick. Pretty big dick, heh.

_Cough_.

After that kind of masochistic torture involving forcing Sakusa’s stubborn dick from getting hard by thinking of Osamu and his obsession with onigiri, Atsumu finally dresses himself Sakusa Kiyoomi style— mask and disgust towards everyone and all.

_Perfect._

Except, he doesn’t know where the fuck he is, not even Sakusa’s phone is helpful because he only has code as password and not Face ID, like who the fuck in 2020 doesn’t have Face ID as password to their phone?! Atsumu is going to force Sakusa to set up his Face ID _just in case_ this happens again. Which, hopefully, would not. Please, Atsumu is begging. _Lord_.

Looking like a dumbass, Atsumu navigates the fancy apartment— high rise, penthouse, minimalistic, screaming of rich. _Yuck_. So Sakusa Kiyoomi, his enemy despite being teammates, is a rich boy? Figures. With that annoying personality of his, Atsumu shouldn’t be surprised but he kind of is because Sakusa never talked about himself except he drives a sports car but he’s a professional volleyball player, he could afford a sports car… maybe. Atsumu can’t. _Wait—_

Atsumu hates the rich. _Eat the rich_ , is what he always says. _Fuck the rich_ , is what follows.

Tsk.

After gawking at the floor to ceiling windows in the living room and making sure he’s got all he needs, Atsumu finally rides the elevator down to the first floor and tries to not look out of place while walking out of the building. At last breathing in fresh air, Atsumu squints at his surroundings and figures he’s in _Umeda_. 

_Of course, of course,_ Atsumu thinks, pinching the bridge of his nose. Only the best for such a rich boy.

Well, nothing he can do about that. It still irks him that he’s in Sakusa’s body so with the determination of a man on a big mission, Atsumu rides the subway to head to practice.

* * *

Before Atsumu can even greet his teammates, _his own face_ is in front of him, half covered with a white mask, frown marring his forehead.

_Oh._

“Omi-Omi?” Atsumu gasps, Sakusa’s voice ringing in his hears and isn’t that just _weird as fuck_. He hasn’t uttered anything since he woke up in Sakusa’s body, barely a hum when acknowledging someone and now, hearing _himself—Sakusa—_ sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s fucking weird.

“Miya.” Atsumu hears and he can’t help but squeak because what the fuck, is that his voice? Really? He sounds— _odd_. “Can we talk?” Sakusa frowns more, making Atsumu’s forehead wrinkle even more.

Atsumu huffs, uncharacteristic for Sakusa but hey, he’s not very good at acting so he’s not even going to try emulating Sakusa Kiyoomi, the embodiment of _i live in spain but without s_ meme. Haha.

“Can you please not frown like that? With my face? Please?” Atsumu whispers, grasping Sakusa’s— _his_ —arms.

Sakusa complies, just a little, then sighs. “Let’s talk after practice.”

“Okay.”

“Omi-Omi! You’re finally here!” Bokuto shouts and that ends their conversation.

Atsumu knows it’s going to be a long day. He sighs, praying for salvation, before joining his teammates.

Salvation did not come and so Atsumu is left trailing behind Sakusa Kiyoomi after practice is done.

Again, he tried _very hard_ and _very long_ to will Sakusa’s stubborn pretty dick to not get hard— _why is it even getting hard?!—_ while showering. He was tempted, alright. His hand was already grasping Sakusa’s—his?—fat cock when a loud crash from the locker rooms startles him and he realises that _no_ , he is not going to jerk off Sakusa’s dick. He’s not about to help that asshole get off, even though it’s fucking painful and technically _his_ dick while in Sakusa’s body.

_Ugh_ , Atsumu could scream. Fuck.

“Keys,” Sakusa holds out a hand and Atsumu stares at it, confused. “Car keys.”

Atsumu huffs, adjusting the mask pulled down under his chin. “I didn’t drive.”

Sakusa cocks a brow and it’s so fucking annoying because it’s his face Sakusa is using. _Dude!_

“Can you stop doing that with my face?” Atsumu complains, brows furrowing.

“If you stop doing that with my face.” Sakusa retaliates, eyes narrowed.

“Hmpf,” Atsumu huffs. “Anyways, I didn’t drive. We can take the subway.”

“The subway,” Sakusa repeats, hint with disgust.

“Oh sorry, rich- _sama._ This peasant forgot to drive your expensive sports car this morning. Please forgive this lowly servant.” Atsumu replies, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Sakusa glares at him, almost as if he wants to strangle Atsumu there and then but it’s his body so he can’t. Ha! There’s a silver-lining in inhabiting this pretty face after all.

“Fine. Whatever.” Sakusa replies, and even under that mask, Atsumu can see he’s got his jaw-clenched so hard Atsumu fears it’s going to snap. Hopefully not. That’s his fucking jaw the asshole is using. Tsk.

It’s still a novelty, seeing this goddamn rich apartment for the second time and sitting in this goddamn expensive soft sofa across from this goddamn asshole who’s trying to ruin Atsumu’s face with his ugly frown. Wait, no, Atsumu is not calling his own frown ugly, Sakusa is just ugly for frowning. Get it? Right.

“So? What’s it Omi-Omi?” Atsumu starts after a whole fifteen minutes of them having a stare down. It’s uncomfortable being under his own stare. That shit’s scary, for some fucking reason.

“What the fuck did you do that we ended up like this?” Sakusa asks, accusing. He’s standing by the big ass windows, back to the glass while Atsumu is sitting on the sofa in front of him.

Atsumu feels like a dirt in a fully prestine kingdom. An ugly dirt. Ugh, fuck. Thoughts go away.

A sigh, before Atsumu lets his upper body fall on the couch. Now he’s laying, facing Sakusa.

“I didn’t do anything. Why would I even do something like this? If it’s witchcraft you’re thinking; bro, I would’ve acquired a voodoo doll and a strand of your hair instead of swapping our goddamn bodies.” Atsumu rants, studying Sakusa in Atsumu’s own body.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants with a big hoodie and Atsumu has never thought of himself as small but if he, in Sakusa’s body, stand in front of Sakusa, in Atsumu’s body, the difference is quite— how should Atsumu say it… not quite astronomical but maybe quite obvious. And see, that’s even weirder because he’s always thought he and Osamu looks the same, from head to toe but seeing himself in this kind of perspective just shows Osamu and Atsumu are quite different and maybe not as big as they thought they were. What a bad epiphany in this hard times of being laser glared by one Sakusa Kiyoomi. Yikes.

“Didn’t think you have the power anyways,” Sakusa replies then crosses his arms before continuing, “but what the fuck happened? _Why_ did this happen?”

Atsumu shrugs, then grins, jokes, “Dunno. Maybe because of _Kimi No Nawa_?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Sakusa grits out. “I want my body back.”

“Dude, as if I don’t want my body back? You’re ruining my image! It’s painful to watch,” Atsumu moans, faux agony.

“There’s no image worth ruining. You do it on your own on the daily,” Sakusa retorts, rolling his eyes. What an asshole. Atsumu wants to strangle him.

“Fuck you,” Atsumu spits out.

Sakusa cocks a brow, “Always knew you’re this narcissistic. I bet you watch yourself jerk off in front of a mirror.”

Atsumu frowns, slow on the uptake before blushing— well, Sakusa’s face is blushing.

“What? No! Dude, what the fuck,” Atsumu replies, lips pursed. “What about you, huh? Why does your dick always gets hard, like what’s the deal with this abomination? Every time I shower, it’s hard and I can’t even jerk off!”

“Why not?” Sakusa asks, nonchalant.

“Huh?” Atsumu yelps, exasperated. “It’s your dick!”

“So? It’s your dick right now,” Sakusa explains. Like, wow, logic.

Atsumu hates him so much.

“I don’t want to touch your dick,” Atsumu says, indignant.

“You touch it when you go to the bathroom. What’s the difference,” Sakusa, the voice of reason and assholery, as always.

“There’s a difference!” Atsumu shouts, sitting up on the couch. He points at his crouch, at Sakusa’s dick, “Pleasuring myself with your dick sounds disgusting.”

“Oh?” Sakusa walks—more like _stalks_ —towards Atsumu and it’s a little laughable because it’s his face and it shouldn’t be intimidating but Sakusa in Atsumu’s body _is still_ intimidating and Atsumu doesn’t know what to feel. “Shall I help?”

“Huh?” Atsumu blinks, looking at Sakusa who’s suddenly kneeling in front of him.

“It’s my dick after all. I should relieve it myself, no?” Sakusa cocks his head, looking at Atsumu intently.

“Uhm—“ Brain freeze. No thoughts, head empty. “Okay.”

Sakusa takes Atsumu’s hands that’s laying on his lap. “Really?”

Atsumu blinks again, then— “Wait! Isn’t this weird? I mean yes, it’s painful when I can’t jerk off but this is your body! And I’m in it! Isn’t this weird, Omi?”

Sakusa shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “It’s just like masturbating myself. No big deal.”

Atsumu feels like he’s missing something here or like— logic? Sanity? Do those things even exist right now? In this time space? Probably not. Atsumu can’t even make sense of anything right now. But hey, what the hell. Why the fuck not.

Sakusa Kiyoomi jerking him off? _Why the fuck not?_

Atsumu is gonna stop thinking. Pleasure is pleasure, he reasons.

“Ugh,” he groans. “Fine. I don’t care anymore. Do whatever you want.”

“Sure,” Sakusa grins, uncharacteristic but somehow feels right on Atsumu’s face. _Weird_.

The moment the word escapes Sakusa’s mouth, Sakusa doesn’t waste time in pulling Atsumu’s sweatpants down, pulling a yelp out of Atsumu’s mouth.

“Dude, be gentle!” Atsumu kicks Sakusa’s thigh, huffing.

“It’s my body,” Sakusa says, like that explains anything. Which, actually, it does but still!

“And I live here right now! Take care of me!” Atsumu replies, truly agonised.

“Fine, fine. What a baby,” Sakusa replies before gently pulling Atsumu’s boxers down and throwing it to the side.

Sakusa grasps his already half-hard dick gently, stroking a couple of times, like testing the waters. Atsumu stares open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Sakusa’s hand holding his cock. That’s technically Atsumu’s hand and wow— What a sight. That— That’s kind of hot.

Atsumu allows himself to stop thinking and just feel. Sakusa keeps on moving his hand up and down his shaft, thumbing his slit a couple of times, spreading pre-come on his dick. After ignoring his cock twice earlier, Sakusa’s touch feels good. _So good_ and Atsumu can’t help but moan.

It’s obscene, the way Sakusa’s moving his hand around his dick, a little bit dry, the pre-come not enough as lube. But it still feels amazing, the friction welcome after having denied himself.

“Omi—“

“Hmm.”

“Lube.”

“Hmm.”

The hand on his cock disappears and Atsumu whines. He wants more. Fuck morality. Fuck logic. He wants to come, goddamnit.

He watches as Sakusa rummages around an innocent looking box just sitting under the coffee table. He emerges with a bottle of lube and Atsumu would have teased him if he wasn’t so desperate but the sight of lube makes him even more aroused, his mind chanting, _finally finally finally_.

Sakusa crawls back in between his legs, watching Atsumu with this look that he can’t pinpoint just yet.

“Okay?” Sakusa asks while pouring lube on his hands and rubbing it in between his fingers.

“Hmmyeah,” Atsumu replies, hands clenching and unclenching beside his naked thighs.

“You know,” Sakusa starts, hands grasping his dick once more. This time it’s wet and it feels even more amazing when he starts stroking up and down, slow, teasing. “It _is_ weird jerking myself off like this but knowing it’s you in this body, I think it’s hot.”

Atsumu doesn’t know what that means and he doesn’t even have time to decipher it properly because Sakusa is moving his hand around his cock faster, wrist flicking expertly, and moving just _so_ that lets Atsumu know that Sakusa does know his own spots and _god_ , that’s so fucking hot.

He wants to come.

“Omi,” Atsumu moans, hands clutching his chest as his breaths comes in pants, legs trembling.

“Coming, Miya?” Sakusa plays with his balls while his thumb presses on the tip of his cock.

“Y-Yeah,” Atsumu nods, eyes downcast and looking at his own face for a brief moment before shifting his gaze to the hands rubbing his cock expertly.

“Then come.” Sakusa says, flicking his wrist, stroking faster.

Atsumu can’t deal with it. It’s too much.

He comes with a moan muffled by his hands covering his mouth. His cock spurts white come on Sakusa’s hands that continues stroking his cock, milking his orgasm.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Right,” Sakusa says after stroking Atsumu’s cock for the last time, come spilling between his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

“Uhm,” Atsumu stares before jumping to action. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he does it. The first thought he had was _tissue, ohmygod_ but the first action he does is grab Sakusa’s wrist and lick the come sliding down his skin.

_Shit_.

Sakusa is frozen, probably disgusted but Atsumu can’t stop now so he continues. With eyes closed, he licks the remaining come on Sakusa’s wrist before trailing his tongue up to his palm, tongue swiping the come lingering there. He hums as he swallows, allowing the come to slide down his throat. It’s salty, not really a michelin star meal but Atsumu doesn’t care. He continues to suck on Sakusa’s fingers, one by one, tongue swirling along the digits. He’s starting to enjoy the taste of his—Sakusa’s?—come when the fingers he’s sucking hooks on his cheek then flattens on his tongue, shoving down his throat.

Atsumu chokes, curses loud but inaudible.

“Didn’t know you’re a come slut, Miya.”

Atsumu stares at Sakusa. It’s as if they’re on their own bodies and not each others. Atsumu can picture it, Sakusa’s expression while doing this, _his own_ expression being at the receiving end of this.

It’s—

Atsumu can’t describe it.

“Miya, you like the taste of my come?”

Atsumu swirls his tongue around Sakusa’s fingers, hums as he sucks it.

Well, Atsumu can’t really deny anything. That he’s a come slut or that he likes the taste of Sakusa’s come.

So he shrugs, not saying anything.

Body swapping isn’t so bad after all. Huh.


	2. i want you to ruin my life (fuck up my nights)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 02: Size Difference**
>
>>   
> “Soap,” Sakusa says, Atsumu’s brows furrows. “Can you pick up the soap? It’s mine and it’s getting more germs the longer it’s on the floor.”
>> 
>> “Uhm,” Atsumu turns his attention to the soap. “Okay.” Then he turns, bends over, picks up the soap and the moment he straightens up again, there’s a wet chest against his back. He squeaks.  
> 
> 
> **\+ updated tags!**

Atsumu has dreams. 

His dreams varies from normal; like childhood memories of pushing Osamu down the stairs because he thought Osamu can fly, after all his halloween costume is an angel with big white wings, that’s bound to allow him to fly, right? Wrong. Safe to say Osamu spent a whole two weeks bedridden and bossing Atsumu around because his ankle was sprained.

Sometimes he also dreams about weird stuff. Like; being in space and playing volleyball on the moon which— could happen. Sounds valid.

And then he also gets those Pornhub worthy dreams; like being fucked on the floor, knees spread wide and back arched, as he cries for _more more more_.

You know, dreams.

But then the body swap with Sakusa happened and all Atsumu could dream about is Sakusa and his big dick and being called a come slut.

Well.

After coming back to his rightful body, _thank god,_ Atsumu has promised himself to forget everything. Everything about that awful day, everything about Sakusa and what Sakusa did to him. _Just,_ he wishes he could get selective amnesia or something. But well, that’s impossible unless he allows Osamu to whack him in the head with a skillet and spend a month in the hospital. So he ignores it, pretends he forgets and acts the same with Sakusa.

But when the dreams starts to appear— _Well._

His _dreams_ about Sakusa’s dick sounds all well and dandy but that’s Sakusa, the asshole who can’t even say a good thing about Atsumu _or_ towards Atsumu. Everyday Atsumu strays from the path of the Lord, thoughts about choking Sakusa just a bit more often than usual.

Still, he can’t shake off the _want_ that he feels whenever he thinks of the last time they were alone together. Despite having been in Sakusa’s body, Atsumu felt all the pleasure that the other has given him, and he _can’t fucking forget_.

It’s getting ridiculous.

Today, Atsumu wakes up from having dreamt of sucking Sakusa’s dick like his life depended on it. It was so vivid too that Atsumu, upon opening his eyes and realising it was a dream, felt a little bit disappointed. Just a _wee_ bit. After all, it’s Sakusa. Even if the dick is pretty and big, it’s still Sakusa and Atsumu refuses to fawn over that asshole’s dick.

Kind of.

So now, Atsumu’s problem is every other morning, he has to wake-up, scurry to his small bathroom and jerk off under the warm water while thinking of Sakusa. Or Sakusa’s dick. Add to that, practice these days takes a toll on him, what with Sakusa just flaunting his crotch like _dude!_ stop seducing people with your dick. _Ugh_.

Atsumu is getting nowhere. And it has become so bad that he has to shower last after practice just so he can jerk off his stubborn dick that goes hard just by the sight of Sakusa’s big hands. _Hands!_ Granted, Sakusa’s hands are big and when he holds the ball, Atsumu can’t help but notice how he almost encompasses the whole of it and for some reason, Atsumu’s brain thinks it’s hot. Like _fucking_ hot he popped a boner right then and there. Atsumu is going to hell. Forget straying away from the path of God, Satan is waiting for him with open arms.

“You okay, Atsumu-san?” Hinata jars him from his thoughts.

Atsumu jerks a little, turns his head to Hinata and grins wide, “Yeah, Shoyo-kun. Absolutely amazing. Why?”

Hinata tilts his head a little, examining Atsumu and Atsumu can’t help but blink and fidget a little. _What_.

Then Hinata smiles, shakes his head, “Nothing! You just looked like you’re thinking very hard.”

“Tsum-Tsum thinking very hard?” Bokuto pipes in, laughing. “Are you hungry? I have some energy bars.”

Atsumu sighs, shakes his head. “Nah, Imma eat when I get home.”

“Suit yourself,” Bokuto says, munching on the said energy bars. Why did he even offer if he’s going to eat all of them anyways? Atsumu sighs again, long suffering.

He cuts his gaze to the side and sees Sakusa Kiyoomi stripping with a frown on his face. Atsumu can’t help but look and reminisce on the day they body swapped. _He_ got to touch that body. Albeit innocently because Atsumu isn’t a creep. Still, that lean body actually felt _amazing_ to the touch.

_Whoops_. Stared too long.

Atsumu gulps and prays to the higher heavens that his dick is behaving and not getting hard for some weird reason like Sakusa’s back muscles like what kind of kink is this _even?_ Muscle kink? Size kink? Atsumu can’t with himself. He needs to fucking drink holy water, he’s that thirsty and horny.

“‘kay. We’re going!” Bokuto exclaims, dragging Hinata with him. “We’re having dinner with Akaashi today. Enjoy your weekend, Omi-Omi, Tsum-Tsum!”

“Bye, Sakusa-san! Atsumu-san!” Hinata grins, waving under Bokuto’s arms hooked around his shoulders.

Atsumu blinks slowly, finally realising that most of the team has left and it’s only him and Sakusa left.

_Fuck._

“Miya.”

Atsumu startles, turns his head slowly to look at Sakusa.

“Y-Yeah?” _Shit_. Don’t stutter Atsumu, you’re stronger than this!

“You should take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Sakusa says, a small smile—grin?—marring his face.

“What?” Atsumu glares. “I’m not looking at you or your body or anyone that is you. Don’t be so cocky.”

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums, heading to the showers.

Wait— _why_ is Sakusa still here? Normally, Sakusa showers and leave first because _germs_. So why is he still here? A change of routine? Atsumu wasn’t notified at all!

Anyways, it’s not like the showers is a small place. Atsumu will shower far away from Sakusa and maybe jerk off quietly. _Hopefully_.

Atsumu is in the middle of fisting his cock, slowly moving up and down, while his other arm is braced on the shower wall, when he hears a clutter that snaps him out of his pleasure filled fantasy.

He jerks, looks down at the soap sliding in front of him then to Sakusa who’s standing just outside his shower stall, naked as the day he was born. Atsumu can’t help but trail his eyes down, to the dick he’s been having a lot of dreams of and _fuck_ , it’s half-hard. _Holy shit._

_“Omi?_ ” Atsumu snaps his eyes back to Sakusa’s face, face flushing red.

“Are you jerking off, Miya?” Sakusa looks at his hard dick pointedly.

Atsumu tries to cover himself, almost slips on the soap if not for Sakusa grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward towards him.

_Oh_.

“Uhh,” Again, brain freeze. His naked body is against Sakusa’s naked body.

_Oh_.

“Were you thinking about me, Miya?” Sakusa says, voice just a little teasing.

Atsumu blushes deeper, hands clenching and unclenching against Sakusa’s wet chest. He pushed out of Sakusa’s hold, lips pursed.

“What are you doing here?” Atsumu asks, clearly puzzled because his shower stall is on the very opposite side of Sakusa’s. So, what the hell is happening here?

“Soap,” Sakusa says, Atsumu’s brows furrows. “Can you pick up the soap? It’s mine and it’s getting more germs the longer it’s on the floor.”

“Uhm,” Atsumu turns his attention to the soap. “Okay.” Then he turns, bends over, picks up the soap and the moment he straightens up again, there’s a wet chest against his back. He squeaks.

“Omi-kun?”

“Yeah,” Sakusa has a hand flat on the shower wall in front of them and one hand on Atsumu’s waist. He’s caged in and Atsumu’s dick twitches after realising that. _Fuck_.

Atsumu breathes in heavily, mind in shambles, heart thudding too fast.

“What’s going on?” He clutches the soap tight with both hands, frozen in place.

“Do you want to play, Miya?” Sakusa whispers, almost inaudible under the spray of the shower.

“Play?” Atsumu can’t think of a game involving soap and being naked except— well. But that’s the horny part of his brain. He’s not allowing it to overtake him. “What game?”

“The first to come does anything the other wants,” Sakusa explains, hand on Atsumu’s waist dipping down to grasp Atsumu’s cock.

Atsumu’s breath hitches, fingers falling slack, letting the soap bounce towards the floor.

“W-What makes you think I’d agree with that?”

“Because you’ve been eyeing me for a week since I jerked you off,” Sakusa says, matter-of-factly.

“Don’t be so cocky,” Atsumu denies even though his voice cracks because he’s a good liar but _not_ that good when there’s a hand holding his dick. “Why would I be eyeing you? You’re nothing.”

Sakusa laughs; the kind of laugh that’s half amused, half mocking. How does he even do that? Atsumu doesn’t know and he doesn’t have the time to think about it because Sakusa is dipping down, mouthing at Atsumu’s neck, sucking just a little.

“ _Oh_ ,” Atsumu groans, head falling to the side, giving Sakusa more skin to suck on.

“Thought so,” Sakusa says, this time voice fully amused. Atsumu wants to kick him where it hurts but—

But it would be such a shame to hurt that pretty dick. _Ugh_.

“Fine,” Atsumu clutches Sakusa’s wrist, nails digging on the skin. Sakusa doesn’t bother to stop stroking Atsumu’s cock, just hums and Atsumu is absolutely fucking wrecked just because of that.

Why is Sakusa Kiyoomi so irresistible? Atsumu hates him.

“Come,” Sakusa turns Atsumu around and backs him up against the cold shower wall. He turns the shower off before caging Atsumu against the wall once again and this is just really bad for Atsumu’s health. Because he knows Sakusa is _big_ ; big hands, big dick, broad shoulders, big ego, big mouth that likes to insult Atsumu but— but Atsumu has never contemplated much about it, not even in his fantasies.

Not until now.

Atsumu is not small, he’s a professional volleyball player; he’s taller than most people and he’s got prominent muscles in all the right places but Sakusa Kiyoomi’s proportions is just fucking perfect. From his broad shoulders to his slim waist to his long legs and that monstrous dick. _What the fuck_.

He wants that to ruin him. Truly.

“Stop ogling,” Sakusa says, hand moving to Atsumu’s thigh and hiking it up his waist. 

“Omi,” Atsumu’s body _burns_. His rational mind flew out of the shower stall the moment Sakusa’s cock touched Atsumu’s ass. Bye logic and all.

Sakusa doesn’t say anything else, just steps in between Atsumu’s legs and allows their cocks to touch and that’s— that feels so amazing. Atsumu moans, bucking his hips, wanting friction. Sakusa ruts against him, pressing Atsumu’s body flat on the shower wall, hiking him up even further until only the tips of Atsumu’s toes are touching the floor.

Atsumu stares at the straining muscles of Sakusa’s arms, holding his weight so easily. Then he cuts his gaze to their cocks and _ohmygod_ not to toot his own horn but Atsumu’s dick is not small per se, just normal but against Sakusa’s dick, the difference is big. Literally.

Why didn’t Atsumu notice when he was in Sakusa’s body? This guy’s dick is a fucking monster when fully hard. It makes Atsumu’s mouth water. He wants it in his mouth, if it even fits which well— he will make it fit. He’s got determination and talent, after all.

“Do you like my dick, Miya?” Sakusa asks, holding their dicks together in his big fucking hands, jerking them off together.

“Uhh,” Atsumu groans at the delicious friction, mind going hazy. He clutches Sakusa’s shoulders, eyes fleeting back and forth from Sakusa’s face to their dicks.

Sakusa presses his thumb on his cockhead, making Atsumu jerk and moan. “Well?”

“Y-Yeah,” Atsumu admits, doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it. “It’s big.”

Sakusa chuckles, light, airy. Atsumu is so far gone. “I guess it is.”

_Please, please_.

Atsumu wants more, he wants to beg, wants Sakusa to make him come.

Sakusa’s hand continues to stroke their cocks together, this time faster, smearing pre-come. He doesn’t even know who’s whose pre-come is on his dick; Atsumu doesn’t care, he loves this feeling of pleasure, of being under Sakusa’s mercy.

“Miya,” Sakusa groans, face falling on Atsumu’s shoulders, mouth sucking on his neck.

Sakusa’s strokes gets faster, his cock twitching against Atsumu’s own and Atsumu continues to fuck his cock against Sakusa’s hand. His nails dig on Sakusa’s shoulders, mind turning numb from pleasure. His moans are loud and at the back of his pleasure filled mind, he’s thankful that they’re the last players here, else Atsumu has to force himself to be quiet which is _hard as fuck_.

His moans goes high pitched the closer he is to orgasm and Sakusa seems to notice that, hand pumping faster until Atsumu is clutching him tight against his body, legs trembling as he comes hard against Sakusa’s cock and hands.

Sakusa continues to stroke their dicks in a fast pace, milking Atsumu’s orgasm while chasing his own release. When Sakusa comes, it’s with a groan against Atsumu’s collarbone, nails digging on his thigh and wrist flicking on their cocks until he’s come down from his high.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Atsumu gasps, looking down at his stomach, painted with his and Sakusa’s release. He looks up at Sakusa who’s watching him intently before Sakusa scoops up some come on Atsumu’s stomach with his still come covered fingers and offers that hand to Atsumu.

Atsumu doesn’t hesitate. He starts licking on Sakusa’s hand, now noticing how long Sakusa’s fingers are and how thick his wrist is and _god_ Atsumu could spend hours licking come from Sakusa’s hand. He takes two long digits inside his mouth, sucking on it while humming.

Sakusa watches him for a while, fingers on his thighs digging even deeper before a small smile blooms on his face.

Then he says, “I win.”

Atsumu furrows his brows, pulling the fingers from his mouth with a pop, confused eyes trained on Sakusa.

“Our bet,” Sakusa explains, wiping some left over come on the corner of Atsumu’s lips.

_Wait_.

Atsumu’s eyes widens before he starts pushing on Sakusa’s chest. The _bitch_.

“You cheated!” He exclaims, pouting.

“I never,” Sakusa says, hoisting Atsumu up, feet leaving the floor completely before harshly setting him back on the floor.

Atsumu clutches Sakusa’s shoulders tightly, willing himself to stand on his own two feet before glaring at the other.

“Yes, you did. You jerk us off.”

“And?”

“It should’ve been both of us!”

Sakusa cocks a brow, “But you’re a pillow princess.”

“Hey, I’m not.” Atsumu pouts further. “Dude, you suck.”

“Dude? After eating my come, _dude?_ Disgusting.”

“Hmpf,” Atsumu huffs. “Your come tastes awful.”

Sakusa laughs, turns the shower on, and basks in the yelp Atsumu lets out when hit by the cold water before backing away from Atsumu’s shower stall.

“Thanks. You love it.”

Atsumu wants to hit him. Really, he does. But his legs are weak and he _did_ love it. He just hates it when Sakusa Kiyoomi is right and gets the last word.

_Ugh._

Fuck him.

Atsumu regrets the bet. And he dreads it.

_Lord, help him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! come talk sakuatsu w me: [eatsumus](http://twitter.com/eatsumus)  
> and do tell me what you think about this ;;


	3. oh maybe, you could devastate me (come and save me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 03: Orgasm Denial**
>
>> Rolling his eyes, Atsumu squeezes Sakusa’s hand and nods, “Fine. Whatever.” He huffs, because he likes to be a brat. It’s just his nature. “You better make it worthwhile.”
>> 
>> Sakusa offers a grin, like— a literal obvious grin. Atsumu wants to punch it off his face just because it’s so cocky and confident and gorgeous.
>> 
>> “When have I ever disappointed you, Miya.”
> 
> **\+ again, updated tags!**

For the whole week, Atsumu anticipates what Sakusa would ask him to do. Play volleyball naked? Give him the little money Atsumu has on his bank? Have a threesome with some bimbo? The last one is impossible, Atsumu knows. He doesn’t think Sakusa likes touching anyone that he’s not familiar with.

And so appears the question, _why_ Atsumu? Sakusa and him aren’t really— very friendly with each other. Nor do they talk about sex or anything of the sort. So why did Sakusa come onto him? _Why him?_

Atsumu ponders that for the whole week of waiting for Sakusa to make him do something, nerves on edge.

But nothing happened.

Training was normal; Atsumu practices his serves, sets for everyone happily, even Sakusa and— nothing. That’s it. _So. normal._

Atsumu might as well have hallucinated their shower shenanigans if not for the lone purple mark under his collarbone, now fading slowly but surely. Maybe Sakusa forgot? That would be nice. Atsumu can relax and sleep properly, dream of Sakusa’s dick in peace, jerk off in peace, and live his life as a young horny adult in peace.

So when Friday rolls around, Atsumu has considerably calmed down, the bet at the back of his mind, forgotten; and even though his eyes still zeroes in on Sakusa’s crotch first when they meet each other, he does not pop a boner anymore. He enjoys the day, jokes around with Hinata and Bokuto, and even one time with Sakusa but Sakusa is busy glaring at everyone so they left him alone. Overall, it was a good day.

Until everyone is gathered in the locker rooms and Meian, their dear captain suggests that they grab some _samgyeopsal_ and a few drinks to celebrate surviving the week and also to prepare themselves for the next week’s out of town games. Everyone, even Sakusa, agreed and so Atsumu is whisked to a Korean barbecue restaurant, feeling light and happy.

The problem is, it’s not that they’re getting barbecue or even that they’re drinking _soju. No_. The problem is and the thing that ended Atsumu’s good Friday is being seated beside Sakusa _while_ drinking _soju_. Now that’s just a disaster waiting to happen.

Which, to Atsumu’s no surprise, did happen.

Someone really has it out for him up there— Maybe they want to fight him? Is that it Gods? Huh?

Atsumu downs another shot of _soju_ , shoves another wrap of _samgyeopsal_ down his throat, all while ignoring Sakusa’s hand placed dangerously close to his thigh. He ignores the images that appears in his mind at the close proximity. He doesn’t think of the last time those hands were on his thighs, gripping tight. _He doesn’t._

He does.

Atsumu can’t concentrate. Not on the conversation Hinata and him are having, not on the next shot of soju he downs, not on the people trying to order more meat. All he can concentrate on is Sakusa’s warmth beside him. It’s such a familiar feeling, Sakusa close, him smelling of disinfectant and something that’s just purely Sakusa. Something like sandalwood and lavender. Maybe his detergent? Hmmm.

Atsumu, distracted, leans closer to Sakusa, takes a deep breath, and hums.

“Drunk already, Miya?”

Atsumu pulls back, surprised. He clears his throat, fingers his empty shot glass while avoiding Sakusa’s gaze.

“As if,” Atsumu scoffs. “It’ll take at least a bottle of _sake_ to get me drunk.”

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums, moves his hands to his own shot glass still filled with _soju_ and offers it to Atsumu.

“Huh?” Atsumu stares at it, then at Sakusa’s blank face, then back at the shot glass. “I have my own.”

Sakusa raises a brow and Atsumu feels like he’s being scrutinised or psychoanalized— some shit like that. It makes him feel self-conscious. Like there’s something on his face. Dirt? Gorgeous? Both?

He’s not drunk enough for this.

Sakusa continues to look at him, shot of _soju_ still on his hand. Atsumu frowns for a beat, ignores it, then grins and says, teasingly,

“Are ya trying to get me drunk, Omi-kun? Want to have your way with me?”

Sakusa makes a face, hint of disgust as he curls his lips into a sneer.

“Now where’s the fun in fooling around with a drunkard?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’re into that? After all, you like public se—“

“You think I’ll stoop that low?”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “ _No._ ” He scoots closer to Sakusa, shit eating grin painted on his face before he whispers as quiet as possible, “I’m saying you can have your way with this drunkard.”

He doesn’t know why he says that. Wasn’t he trying to forget _everything_? Apparently, Atsumu is just a horny ball of a man. He’s valid, okay. He’s young and Sakusa _is_ hot despite being an asshole. Why should he hold himself back? Or so he thinks. But in reality, Atsumu’s cheeks are flushed, embarrassed at the words uttered just a few seconds ago. He thinks _soju_ makes him stupid. That’s it. Maybe he’s drunk.

“Sorry, sorry,” Atsumu laughs, a bit awkward. Sakusa just stares at him, probably thinking of how shameless Atsumu is. “Forget that. I don’t mean that.”

Sakusa’s hand is suddenly on his thighs and it _burns_ , trailing up his torso, to his neck, his cheeks. Sakusa’s touch is not a balm, it’s a goddamn wildfire wrecking havoc in Atsumu’s body.

“ _Omi,”_ Atsumu stares at Sakusa, wide-eyed. He feels the hand on his thighs squeeze just a bit, making Atsumu’s breath hitch.

Sakusa smiles—is it a smile? maybe—at him, eyes amused. “You don’t mean it? Or you want it but can’t admit it?”

“Ha?” Atsumu continues to stare at him, bewildered. He forgets everyone, focus solely on Sakusa and his touch and the warmth he’s radiating. _Fuck_. “No?”

“You sure?” Sakusa moves his hand up, rubbing Atsumu’s inner thigh and just, _no._ What the fuck is going on?

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu grabs Sakusa’s wrist, fingers light on his skin. Despite being an asshole half of the time towards each other, Atsumu is still careful in touching Sakusa outside of… well, _sex_. Because Sakusa is quite sensitive with _dirt_ and _germs_ and Atsumu’s hand is just the slightest bit greasy from dinner. “What are you doing?”

Sakusa hums, looks down at their hands. “Let’s go home.”

“Together?” Atsumu’s mind is conjuring up the horniest scenarios it can conjure and one of them is Sakusa’s hands rubbing his clothed dick under the table, right then and there. Atsumu is really going to hell.

“Together,” Sakusa confirms, turns his hands upside down and grabs Atsumu’s hand in his, almost covering Atsumu’s whole hand.

Right, okay. _Alright._ Atsumu chokes on his spit because _what_. That’s so out of place. Is this how Sakusa flirts with all the people he’s had sex with or is going to have sex with? No wonder he’s popular despite being an asshole and vocal about his disgust in being touched. Sakusa, from what Atsumu has observed _and_ experienced _,_ once comfortable with touching someone, he really goes for it. _Touch_ , that is.

And right now, Atsumu is the one on the receiving end of that— affection, trust.

Wow.

His heart squeezes. He’s getting heartburn. _Ugh._

Atsumu can’t possibly say no now, can he? Sakusa is a force to be reckoned with and Atsumu is weak for him. And his dick.

Rolling his eyes, Atsumu squeezes Sakusa’s hand and nods, “Fine. Whatever.” He huffs, because he likes to be a brat. It’s just his nature. “You better make it worthwhile.”

Sakusa offers a grin, like— a literal obvious grin. Atsumu wants to punch it off his face just because it’s so cocky and confident and gorgeous.

“When have I ever disappointed you, Miya.”

It’s a rhetorical question, Atsumu knows but still—

“You missed one of my set today.”

Sakusa snorts, “Annoying.”

Atsumu huffs, then grins, and announces to the whole table of teammates that’s been in their own little worlds and conversations.

“We’ll be going home now,” Atsumu lets Sakusa’s hand go under the table and stands, brushing his hoodie and pants off of stray meat and vegetables and other filthy things that Sakusa might bitch over later.

“Together?” Hinata questions, brows raised in surprise.

“Uh,” Atsumu stutters, tripping over his reply. “Yeah. Omi-kun is dropping me off with the taxi.”

“Okay…” Hinata nods, albeit hesitant.

“Don’t worry, Shoyo! We won’t kill each other yet,” Atsumu replies with a wide-smile. _At least, not that kind of killing. But I hope he kills me with that monster di—_

“Let’s go,” Sakusa tugs him out of the table by the wrist while waving goodbye to everyone.

Atsumu allows himself to be dragged by Sakusa out of the restaurant, exclaiming his goodbyes until they’re out of earshot and there are only the two of them outside.

“So,” Atsumu starts, swinging his arm that’s still in Sakusa’s hold. “Are ya gonna make a mess out of me, OmiOmi or are we gonna stay here until my balls freeze.”

Sakusa snorts, flagging a taxi, “Annoying.”

Atsumu laughs following Atsumu to the taxi, “Thanks.”

* * *

Sakusa is going to be the death of Atsumu.

The moment they enter Sakusa’s apartment, Atsumu expects him to get down to it right away but Sakusa only leads him to the bedroom and demands that Atsumu shower and clean himself _thoroughly_. Which, in a daze and a bit of surprise, Atsumu does without any questions. When he finishes in the shower, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe and smelling like lavender—so that’s where the smell is from, Sakusa’s body soap—he comes out to the bedroom where Sakusa is sitting on the bed, clothes changed and hair wet.

Atsumu approaches him, fingers Sakusa’s wet hair and looks at him questioningly.

“Master bathroom,” Sakusa answers the unsaid question.

“Isn’t this the master bathroom?” Atsumu questions before letting out a yelp as Sakusa tugs him down to his lap.

“Hmm, no. This is an ensuite. The master bathroom is bigger.”

“I see,” Atsumu says, as if he understands rich people language. He does not. There is absolutely no difference in master bathroom and ensuite bathroom in Atsumu’s brain. Bathroom is bathroom in his opinion.

Sakusa tugs Atsumu’s bathrobe off his shoulders and latches on his neck, sucking on the skin and soothing it with his tongue after. Atsumu squirms on Sakusa’s lap, cock already half-hard from thinking of what they’re going to do and what Sakusa is going to do to him.

“Omi,” Atsumu tugs on Sakusa’s hair.

Sakusa leaves his spot on Atsumu’s neck and stairs up at Atsumu. There is this urge growing from Atsumu’s insides but he doesn’t— doesn’t want to _impose_. So even when he really wants to kiss Sakusa’s wet red lips, he doesn’t. He bites on his bottom lip instead and continues to run his fingers through Sakusa’s damp hair, pulling the other’s bangs off his forehead and _finally_ gets to have a full view of Sakusa’s bare face, no hair, no mask, no glasses nor frown blocking his view.

_Wow_.

“Miya,” Sakusa whispers, a hand coming up to swipe at the pulse thudding wildly behind Atsumu’s ear.

“ _Atsumu.”_

“ _‘tsumu,”_ Sakusa says, quiet, like a prayer, and Atsumu says _fuck it_ , dives for Sakusa’s lips and _devours_ him.

Sakusa is quick to reciprocate, lips moving against Atsumu just as frantic as him. Sakusa’s lips are soft and his mouth tastes like mint and his breath is warm and it’s _wet_. Atsumu loves when it's wet and filthy so he swirls his tongue against Sakusa’s own, moaning at the first brush before basking in the feel of their wet tongues tangling together.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Atsumu wants more but he doesn’t know if he can handle more of _Sakusa Kiyoomi_.

He hopes he gets out of this unscathed.

_Please_ , Atsumu thinks before pulling back from Sakusa’s irresistible mouth, a thread of spit connecting their lips.

“Omi,” Atsumu groans, mouth at Sakusa’s lips. “ _More_.”

Sakusa hooks a thumb inside Atsumu’s mouth, pressing on the insides of his cheek.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “ _Yeah.”_

Atsumu is crying. Or maybe sobbing.

Also maybe not. But almost _there_.

Sakusa has him on his back, a pillow under his lower back, legs spread wide, fingers clutching on the silk sheets. He must look _obscene_ and desperate.

He feels like it. _So desperate_.

His legs shakes as Sakusa adds another finger inside him, more wet than the first one. Everything is so wet; his thighs, wet with lube and spit from Sakusa sucking and licking on it. His face, from sweat and a few tears escaping on the corner of his eyes. His _hole,_ wet from copious amount of lube because Sakusa figured out right away that Atsumu likes it _wet_ and _loud_.

Atsumu is chanting Sakusa’s name, the _omiomiomiomi_ like a prayer every time Sakusa drives his fingers inside him, brushes against his prostate, stays there and tortures Atsumu with short thrusts of his fingers against that spot. It’s too accurate that it’s scary but Sakusa’s fingers are long and it reaches even the places that Atsumu’s and other people’s fingers _and_ dicks couldn’t.

_Ohmygod._

_“Omi,”_ Atsumu reaches out a hand, wanting to feel warm skin.

Sakusa bends over him, allows his fingers to clutch on the nape of Sakusa’s neck. 

“You good?” Sakusa presses a wet kiss on Atsumu’s lips, fingers thrusting slowly in and out of Atsumu.

Atsumu, almost delirious from pleasure, nods. “Hmm, yeah. So good, Omi.” He moans. “Wanna come.”

Sakusa mouths at his jaw, teeth scraping his damp skin. “Okay, ‘tsumu.”

Then Sakusa drives his fingers faster, thrusting deep and quick that has Atsumu hiccuping on moans. His cock is leaking pre-come on his stomach constantly, neglected. He thinks he can come untouched like this. He’s _almost_ there.

Sakusa grasps his cock, pumping in the same pace as his fingers inside Atsumu’s ass. _Fuck_. He’s so close. _So, so close._

His fingers tighten on Sakusa’s nape, legs snapping close against the other’s thighs, shaking hard.

And then Sakusa stops and Atsumu lets out a pained whine.

“Omi, no—“ Atsumu hiccups, looks at Sakusa with teary eyes. “Wanna come.” He breathes in deeply, then out. “I can’t—“

“One more time, ‘tsumu,” Sakusa nips at his inner thigh. “Yeah?”

Atsumu hates that tone of voice, along with that soft look on Sakusa’s face because that’s exactly what lands him there, on the bed, having been denied of his orgasm thrice already. His dick is so hard and it’s almost too painful that he wants to just say fuck it and jerk off by himself, leave Sakusa with his own blue balls and all but—

It’s also good. Like this, with Sakusa.

Atsumu has never felt like this before. Even when other people did this to him, he never was on the verge of losing his mind. With Sakusa though, Atsumu thinks he’s going to go crazy and become stupid just for a _fuck._ But it’s no _mere_ fuck, it’s Sakusa Kiyoomi and for some goddamn reason, Atsumu is looking forward to having that dick inside him and so he has absolutely no problem in allowing this asshole to deny him orgasm about one hundred fucking times.

Maybe he has _already_ become stupid after all.

No matter.

“Okay,” Atsumu nods, spreads his legs wide again and allows himself to relax and feel Sakusa’s fingers inside him.

“Good boy, ‘tsumu,” Sakusa whispers, dropping a kiss on his wet eyelids.

“Hmm,” Atsumu hums, almost content.

That doesn’t last because Sakusa is once again pushing his fingers deep inside him, in and out, spreading his hole, scissoring his fingers, hitting his prostate with scary accuracy. Atsumu is back to being on edge, babbling at Sakusa to make him come, pulling on the sheets, wishing they tear so a proof of him surviving tonight stays in Sakusa’s apartment. Sakusa has a leg hiked on his shoulder, sucking bruises on his inner thighs, leaving a visible proof of him ruining Atsumu for anyone that isn’t him.

It’s ridiculous.

Atsumu loves it.

He does and _yet—_

“I’m close,” Atsumu groans, back arching just slightly from the bed.

Sakusa puts a hand on his stomach, pushing Atsumu’s body back flat against the bed before he thrusts his fingers even faster inside Atsumu. Atsumu wants to move but he _can’t_ , his limbs feels like jelly and Sakusa has a hand on his torso, preventing him from moving too much. The only thing he can do is take it. _Take what Sakusa gives him_.

Atsumu’s moans comes in short breaths, his eyes shuts close and his mind goes hazy, the only thing he can focus on are Sakusa’s fingers giving him pleasure, pumping inside of him, leaving him wanting for more. When Sakusa starts fisting his cock, Atsumu loses his mind.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa whispers, lips against his ear. “Come.”

Atsumu doesn’t scream but he almost does when he finally orgasms. His dick twitches, letting out short spurts of come against his stomach, Sakusa’s fingers inside him moving in and out, slow, lazy while his hand on Atsumu’s cock does the same, just moving languidly, milking Atsumu’s orgasm.

When Atsumu finally comes out of his blissed out state, he watches Sakusa fist his own cock, hands pumping in quick movement. Atsumu stares, can’t help but lick his lips. Before he can even stop himself, he scoots closer to Sakusa’s cock and looks up at Sakusa through his wet eyelashes.

“You want it?”

Atsumu licks his lips again, nods and opens his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Atsumu,” Sakusa moans, hand pumping his cock faster before he comes on Atsumu’s open mouth, come landing on Atsumu’s tongue and the corner of his lips, a bit on his cheeks.

Atsumu savours it all, swipes the come on his cheeks with a finger and sucks his finger while swallowing the come on his mouth.

“Why are you so _filthy,”_ Sakusa brushes his thumb on Atsumu’s lower lip.

Atsumu grins and shrugs, “It’s hotter.”

Sakusa wrinkles his nose, “Weird kink.”

Atsumu pouts, “Hey! I’m not the one who wanted to deny someone orgasm until they’re begging for it. You’re a little sick, you know that?”

Sakusa shrugs, “Wanted to try it once. Was worth it.”

Atsumu huffs, “It better be. I almost died of blue balls.”

“No you weren’t. You’re just a big baby,” Sakusa retorts, teasing.

“Whatever,” Atsumu rolls his eyes because he can’t deny that. “Now we’re even.”

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums, standing from the bed. “Did you like it?”

Atsumu sits up, crosses his legs as he eyes Sakusa’s soft dick, “I guess. Six out of ten. You forgot to use your dick.”

“Brat.”

Atsumu grins, fox like, “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha........ sakuatsu p*rn brainrot. dont come at me but also do, i like making friends uwu


	4. when you are close to me (i shiver)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  DAY 04: BREATHPLAY  
>  **
>
>> At his action, Sakusa grins behind his mask, obvious by the crinkle of his eyes, and rubs a thumb on Atsumu’s jaw soothingly.
>> 
>> “I want you to have it.”
>> 
>> And that’s— well, it’s that fond look and the obvious grin for him. Atsumu hates losing but when Sakusa looks at him like that and says things like that, Atsumu _has_ to concede.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **read:** the breathplay is only a little scene because these two aren't experts. they're only experimenting. breathplay is dangerous when you don't know what you're doing yall so dont try it @ home kids unless youre sure you know how to do it. uwu

How many times has Atsumu fooled around with Sakusa? Twice? Thrice? Four times? Atsumu isn’t really counting. There is no point in counting when every time Atsumu tries to stop their sex shenanigans from happening, he just ends up waking up the next morning covered in silk sheets with Sakusa’s face buried on his neck.

It’s fucking weird.

Atsumu has never thought of being with someone that is not his lover for _this_ long. Almost a month has passed since the body swap incident and it has never happened again, _thank god_. But Sakusa and him continues to fool around like they can’t get enough of each other. Well, Atsumu can’t get enough of Sakusa’s dick, Sakusa probably is just— touch starved or something. Atsumu does not dwell much on Sakusa’s reason on why he’s keeping Atsumu on his bed long after he’s come on Atsumu’s face. Ignorance is bliss and all.

Right now, they’re out of town. The games they played were tiring and Atsumu could use a 12 hour nap but he’s got too much excess energy from winning games after games and he’s— he’s _happy_.

Even more happy that he’s rooming with Sakusa in the hotel they’re staying in and they can do whatever they want with each other without someone being suspicious of them.

Atsumu admits that there’s been a few too many close calls in which their teammates almost catches them mid-act; either kissing or fooling around in the showers. Sakusa does not care, shameless but Atsumu does and he blushes from head to toe when Hinata, while stretching before starting practice, points out the hickey sitting just under Atsumu’s left ear. It’s dark pink, made just that morning before he and Sakusa left for training.

Atsumu has stammered, “U-Uh, a mosquito bit me.”

Hinata, despite his bright personality, is not as innocent as other people perceive him to be. Atsumu can see the glint of amusement in his eyes and the teasing grin that blooms on his face made Atsumu want to hit himself with a volleyball on the face. Or maybe Sakusa. That asshole made the hickey after all. Tsk.

“Right,” Hinata says. “You should be more careful, Atsumu-san! You never know what the mosquito might leave on you in the future.”

Atsumu’s face was on fire as he nods, curt. “Sure, Shoyo. I will.”

That has been one of the most embarrassing moment in Atsumu’s life.

Nothing changes though. Because Sakusa still is a fucking vampire fond of sucking on Atsumu’s tanned skin and Atsumu doesn’t stop him because he likes looking at the marks littering his body. It’s _proof_ that he’s getting some action. It’s _good_.

It’s good and so, right at this moment, with all that excess energy he has from today’s game, Sakusa finds a way to use all of it up. Atsumu is kneeling on the floor, pillow under his knees, lips parted and mouth stuff full of Sakusa’s cock.

Atsumu garbles, hums as he bobs his head while looking up at Sakusa’s face painted with pleasure. _That’s hot_ , Atsumu thinks while swirling his tongue, watches as Sakusa bites his lower lip, swallowing a moan. Sakusa’s eyes are close and there’s sweat trailing down the side of his cheek, his brows furrowed in concentration as he tries to prevent himself from shoving his whole dick down Atsumu’s throat.

_It shouldn’t be like that_ , Atsumu thinks. He makes it his mission then, to make Sakusa let go and just _use_ Atsumu like how Atsumu wants Sakusa to use him.

And so Atsumu doubles his effort, using his hand to fist the part of Sakusa’s dick he can’t fit inside his mouth. He swallows, flattens his tongue under Sakusa’s cock and bobs his head faster, letting drool trail down his chin. It’s filthy. It’s amazing.

Sakusa snaps his eyes open when Atsumu hollows his cheeks and takes in a bit more of Sakusa’s dick in his mouth, moaning,

“‘tsumu.”

Atsumu hums, twists his hands, swirls his tongue. He pulls back for a while, mouth wide open and tongue lolling out as he pants for breath.

“Omi,” he rasps, throat aching, voice wrecked. _Good_.

Sakusa brushes his bangs, hums in acknowledgement. He’s looking at Atsumu with that soft look in his eyes again, which Atsumu has dubbed _whipped Omi._ He’s probably wrong but it doesn’t hurt to fantasise about someone you hate being so far gone for you, they look at you _like that_. Atsumu has never looked at someone like that and yet, here Sakusa is, looking at Atsumu like he hangs the stars in the sky. Or he sucks his dick almost on the daily. Which— is true. Very true. Huh.

“Don’t hold back,” Atsumu murmurs, licking his lips. He takes Sakusa’s hands, puts it on top of his head, repeats, “Don’t hold back.”

Sakusa looks at him for a beat before curling his fingers in Atsumu’s hair, first gently then tightly when Atsumu takes Sakusa’s cock back inside his warm mouth.

This time when Atsumu starts bobbing his head, Sakusa is quick to set the pace, guiding Atsumu’s head, fucking Atsumu’s mouth. Atsumu moans around his cock, lets his mouth fall slack and allow Sakusa to fuck into his mouth like he’s just there for Sakusa to use, a cockslut and nothing more.

Atsumu loves it.

He digs his nails on Sakusa’s thighs when Sakusa moves his hips faster, fucks his mouth deeper. He chokes a few times but never complains, only moans and groans at how Sakusa’s cock fits perfectly inside his mouth, at how Sakusa’s cock taste _good_.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa moans, tilts Atsumu’s head up while still fucking his mouth. “I’m coming.” He says, a short breath.

Atsumu nods, hums and relaxes his throat. Sakusa comes inside his mouth in long spurts, come sticky and sliding down his throat. He clenches his eyes as he swallows, bobs his head a few more times before letting go of Sakusa’s dick.

“You’re really something,” Sakusa murmurs, catching his breath. His bangs is plastered on his forehead and he looks wrecked but maybe not as wrecked as Atsumu. _Unfair_.

“I’m the best,” Atsumu croaks, rubs his throat as he shifts on his perch on the floor, his own cock still hard.

Sakusa hums, “I guess you are.” Then he looks at Atsumu’s hard dick pointedly. “Need help?”

Atsumu grins at him, “Yeah.”

Sakusa grins back, pulls Atsumu off the floor and without saying anything, eat Atsumu’s ass out until he’s shaking and crying on the sheets.

Indeed, it’s a very effective way to let out excess energy.

* * *

Coach Foster gives them the weekend free. They’re in Tokyo and almost everyone takes that to mean that they can play around, meet some friends, do whatever they want to do in this busy city.

Atsumu is _tired_. He’d blame Sakusa for tiring him out but honestly, it’s his own fault. Sakusa and him hit the bed at around one in the morning, freshly showered and all. Compared to Sakusa who falls asleep right away, Atsumu stays awake, turning around in his bed, thinking of _things_ that he shouldn’t be thinking. He only falls asleep when his brain tires of thinking, at around four in the morning and so here he is now, at 10, tired and cranky _and_ hungry.

Sakusa and him waves goodbye to their teammates, promising to meet up for dinner. They don’t even ask _why_ they’re spending the day together, used to both of them going off somewhere unknown. Atsumu wants to go back to their room and sleep but Sakusa drags him to Starbucks, shoves an iced coffee in his hand and drags him more to wherever hell he wants to bury Atsumu’s dead body.

Atsumu doesn’t care, sipping on his free coffee. _Ahh_ , the taste of overpriced cafe latte. It’s good and maybe just a bit too much. How is Atsumu suppose to drink a _venti_? He’s not much of a coffee drinker. He likes tea made traditionally, not… pure caffeine.

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu finally says something, turning towards Sakusa who’s sitting beside him in a taxi. When the hell did they even get into a taxi? “Where are we going?”

“Shopping,” Sakusa answers, fingers tapping his coffee cup while staring straight ahead.

Atsumu blinks at him. “Okay.”

Maybe he needs new shoes? Atsumu would love to see Sakusa try hot pink shoes. _That_ would be funny.

Atsumu doesn’t witness Sakusa try on hot pink shoes. However, he does witness Sakusa not look at the price tag of a jacket and hand over his credit card like that shit costs five thousand yen when in reality it cost almost six hundred _thousand_ , give or take. Atsumu stands by the side, staring as the clerk puts the jacket in a box then the box in an expensive looking shopping bag. He tries to do the math, how many months of rent that jacket cost but math is too hard right now so he settles for _staring_.

“Miya,” Sakusa calls out. “Let’s go.”

“Right,” Atsumu replies, steps beside Sakusa as they continue to walk pass more high end brand stores. Atsumu feels just a little bit out of place. “Is that it?”

Sakusa looks at him then turns away, enters a store, leaving Atsumu scurrying after him.

“Hey,” Sakusa halts, leans down and whispers in Atsumu’s ear. “Look at that.” He points at a jacket and it’s the one Atsumu has expressed a liking to when they passed by the store earlier.

Atsumu tilts his head, “It’s fancy, I guess?”

Sakusa nods, “Try it.”

Atsumu freezes, turns his head slowly to look at Sakusa like he’s grown two heads. “I’m not rich like ya, OmiOmi.”

“Who said you’ll buy it?” Sakusa cocks a brow, nods at the person trying to give them the absolute best service they can have.

“Then what’s the point of trying it?” Atsumu huffs. “I wanna go eat. I’m hungry.”

“Try it first then we’ll get something greasy.”

Atsumu’s mouth waters at the thought of food and isn’t that just funny. He’s so easy to bribe. If someone mentions food then he’ll do anything for it. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not only Osamu who loves to eat, Atsumu does too, if not more since he can only eat and not cook.

“Okay.”

Atsumu tries the jacket on, it fits _very well_ , he pouts at the lack of price tag because that means it’s _too_ expensive to have a price tag, shows Sakusa how it looks then takes it off and gives it back to the seller.

“Happy?” Atsumu puts his hands on his hips, standing in front of Sakusa.

“Very,” Sakusa replies, pleased, then says to the seller. “We’ll take the grey and the black. His size.”

It has never happened before, Atsumu’s brain malfunctioning outside of sex. But Sakusa, apparently, has the power to not only wreck Atsumu in bed but also out of it.

_What the fuck_.

“ _What_ ,” Atsumu blinks, glares at Sakusa. “Ya said we’re not buying anything.”

“I said you’re not buying it, not that I can’t buy it for you,” Sakusa retorts and okay, that’s true but _still_.

Why? _Why me?_

“Why?” Atsumu whispers, eyes darting to the card being exchanged between the seller and Sakusa. It swipes fast, Sakusa signs quickly and the transaction is done. Atsumu can’t _breathe_.

“Just because,” Sakusa shrugs.

“I don’t need it,” Atsumu says but still takes the huge shopping bag handed to him. The seller is trying to ignore them but Atsumu can see she’s listening _very_ intently.

“It’s getting colder, anyways. You need it,” Sakusa explains like— like _that_ makes sense. It doesn’t!

“I have many jackets,” Atsumu tries for the last time even when he clutches the bag close to his chest.

At his action, Sakusa grins behind his mask, obvious by the crinkle of his eyes, and rubs a thumb on Atsumu’s jaw soothingly.

“I want you to have it.”

And that’s— well, it’s that fond look and the obvious grin for him. Atsumu hates losing but when Sakusa looks at him like that and says things like that, Atsumu _has_ to concede.

“Fine,” he huffs and bumps shoulders with Sakusa. With a blush high on his cheeks, he whispers, loud enough for Sakusa to hear, “Thank ya, Omi.”

Sakusa nods, rubs his nose on top of the mask, “Yeah.”

* * *

Dinner doesn’t happen.

It’s not Atsumu’s fault. Or maybe it is? He doesn’t want to admit it.

But dinner doesn’t happen and their phones has been ringing for the last hour but Atsumu can’t focus on it. All he can focus on is Sakusa and his _warmth_.

So warm.

Atsumu has been feeling out of sorts lately, especially when he’s with Sakusa. And it’s the reason why dinner for them is cancelled.

After shopping, Sakusa suggested for them to go back to the hotel, drop off their shopping bags and meet their teammates for dinner. But Atsumu takes one look at Sakusa who’s wiping the shopping bags with a wipe disinfectant and he _feels_. It’s not his fault _Omi’s_ back looks sturdy and his hands looks warm and his hair looks soft.

It hits Atsumu like a trainwreck, right then and there that he _wants_.

And so he marches up to Sakusa, turns the other towards him and buries his face on his chest. Sakusa lets out a breath of surprise, hands falling to grasp Atsumu’s waist.

“Miya?”

“ _Atsumu.”_

A sigh, “Atsumu. Anything you want?”

Atsumu giggles, “Yeah.” He looks at him, grins. “You.”

From there, it’s downhill— or maybe uphill? Atsumu can’t make sense of anything right now. Just the blunt head of Sakusa’s monster dick pushing inside his hole wet with lube. He tries not to tense up, tries to relax as much as he can but Sakusa’s dick is really on another level and Atsumu hasn’t taken that thing as often as he wants to so he’s really not use to it.

It hurts.

It’s _mind-blowing_.

“Are you okay?” Sakusa asks, breaths coming in pants.

“Y-Yeah,” Atsumu arches his back, tightens his legs around Sakusa’s waist. “Come on, OmiOmi, fuck me.”

Sakusa groans at that. Atsumu almost grins, feral because Sakusa is _losing_ it. It doesn’t happen often but Atsumu absolutely loves seeing him chase his own pleasure by using Atsumu’s body. It’s in this moment when Atsumu loves talking dirty to him. It makes Sakusa go crazy.

“You’re so tight,” Sakusa buries his face on Atsumu’s neck, mouth sucking more bruises on the skin.

“Yeah?” Atsumu breathes out, meeting Sakusa’s thrusts with his own. “Ya like being inside me, Omi? Like ruining my wet hole with yer dick?”

Sakusa nods against his neck, hips moving faster. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, too high strung in the pleasure they’re feeling.

“Faster, Omi.” Atsumu moans, gripping Sakusa’s biceps when Sakusa sits up, plants his feet on the bed more firmly, digs his fingers on Atsumu’s hips and shoves his dick inside Atsumu’s ass deeper.

Atsumu almost shrieks, head thrown back as Sakusa hits that good spot inside of him. His body shakes when Sakusa rubs his nipple, fingers pinching the erect nub. His other hand leaves Atsumu’s hips, trailing up to cup his jaw.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sakusa whispers, looking at Atsumu, eyes intense.

Atsumu lets out a series of moans, moves his hands to clutch Sakusa’s wrist on his chin and directs it to his throat. He stares at Sakusa with teary eyes, nails digging on Sakusa’s skin.

“ _OmiOmi, pleaseplease,”_ Atsumu writhes, squeezes Sakusa’s arm.

“‘tsumu,” Sakusa slows his thrusts, looks at Atsumu with wide eyes.

“ _More,”_ Atsumu intwines his fingers with Sakusa’s own that’s sitting on his neck. He squeezes and he almost comes right away.

“Fuck,” Sakusa curses, flexes his fingers on Atsumu’s neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Atsumu shakes his head, gasps for air, “Ya won’t.” He meets Sakusa’s dark eyes, “I trust ya.”

And isn’t that just an understatement. Atsumu trusts Sakusa with everything he has and _more_.

It’s almost scary how much but—

He loves this.

He _wants_ it.

Sakusa nods, resumes fucking Atsumu’s hole, snapping his hips in long strokes. His fingers twitches on Atsumu’s neck, the veins on his arms throbbing with the amount of control he’s trying to exert. Atsumu knows it’s dangerous but he trusts Sakusa and his browser history.

_Ha_.

When Sakusa leans over him, mouth hovering over Atsumu’s own, Atsumu puckers his lips. Sakusa kisses him deeply, tongue mapping the inside of his mouth. And when Sakusa clenches his hand tighter around his neck, careful with where his fingers are poised, Atsumu lets out a sob. Sakusa fucks him harder, faster, presses his fingers tighter.

It’s too much.

Atsumu is almost crying in pleasure, nails clawing at Sakusa’s arm.

Sakusa lets his neck go then, pressing open mouthed kisses on the skin as he fucks Atsumu on the sheets, reducing him into a moaning mess, head thrown back, lips parted as his moans becomes louder. They’re both chasing their release now, movements erratic, _frantic_ without following any rhythm.

It’s when Sakusa strokes Atsumu’s cock that he comes, sudden and hard and mind-numbing. His body tightens, fingers clutching at the sheets beneath him, hips twitching as his cock spurts his release on his stomach and on Sakusa’s hand.

Sakusa pushes inside him a few more times before coming himself, body shuddering on top of Atsumu’s and cock releasing on the condom.

Atsumu can’t remember a time he trusted someone this much. He can’t remember a time he’s felt this much pleasure. _He can’t_.

Sakusa _ruined_ him.

“Omi,” Atsumu groans, shifting. Sakusa’s body is slump on top of him and it’s really not that comfortable.

“‘tsumu,” Sakusa sits up, pulls his cock out of Atsumu’s hole and throws the condom on the bin beside the bed. He looks at Atsumu after, reaching a hand to rub soothing circles on his neck. “How did you know?”

Atsumu grins, blissed out, soft, but teasing, “I was using yer laptop and checked yer history. OmiOmi, ya have such weird kinks.”

Sakusa blinks at him, frowns a little, “You snooped around.”

Atsumu pouts, “I didn’t! The website I visited was— questionable so I only wanted to delete the history. That’s how I saw it.”

Sakusa sighs, lays on the bed and pulls Atsumu close to his chest. “Should’ve used incognito.”

“Mhm,” Atsumu laughs, light. Sakusa feels warm. He likes that.

“Next time,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu snorts, “Next time just ask me.”

“Ask you,” Sakusa repeats, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Atsumu snuggles closer to Sakusa’s body, pressing his face on the crook of his neck. “I know this stuff. I saw on Pornhub.”

Sakusa breathes out what sounded like a sigh of relief, “Right. You’re an expert because of a porn site.”

“Yepp,” Atsumu nuzzles his face on Sakusa’s skin.

They’re quiet for a moment before Sakusa stirs and pushes Atsumu’s face away from him.

“Let’s shower.”

“I’m tired,” Atsumu whines. “Don’t wanna.”

“You’re filthy,” Sakusa sneers.

“Ya like it.”

“Not like this.”

Atsumu huffs, “Fine. Help me though. ’m lazy.”

Sakusa sighs, long-suffering. “Fine.”

Atsumu grins, drops a kiss on Sakusa’s lips, “Thanks, OmiOmi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like im adding more plot to this pwp,,, oh no,,, ohnononono,,,


	5. he giving me that good shit (everyday)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 05: DADDY KINK**
>
>> Honestly, at first, it was just a joke.
>> 
>> When Atsumu ask Sakusa to buy him ice cream and Sakusa obliges without any question, Atsumu always makes his thanks known by saying,
>> 
>> “Thank ya, daddy.”
> 
> **\+ updated tags! haha lol**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **note:** hi! i just want to say that i changed a little of how atsumu talks (?). i didn't incorporate it in the earlier chaps but i will change them right away! hope you all understand 🥺

Thinking that some grand thing will _change—_ a grand _shift—_ in his and Sakusa’s dynamic after what happened in Tokyo is apparently the wrong thing to do. Or so what Atsumu observes.

Nothing much changed, if Atsumu is being honest. Their relationship stay the same; Atsumu goes to practice, tease Sakusa while training, Sakusa will glare and ignore him, they finish practice, they go home separately.

It’s not like they fool around everyday. No, they don’t. They have their own separate lives and separate friends. They are not stuck like glue. Which suits Atsumu good enough.

Sometimes though, he leaves practice with Sakusa, goes to Sakusa’s place, fuck and cuddle, eat dinner, sleep beside Sakusa, then go to practice the next day together. They have a routine when Atsumu stays over and it feels too comfortable to let go of it.

And sometimes, Atsumu wants to say no, some annoying feeling in his chest making its existence known every time Sakusa initiates touch; fingers circling his wrist, a kiss to his temple, a pat on the back. Those times, Atsumu wants to say _no_ because it’s becoming _too much_ for him. And sooner now, he’d be unable to _breathe_ without Sakusa and that is the scariest thing that could ever happen to him.

However, Atsumu never say no; always ending up laying on Sakusa’s soft sheets, always waking up face smushed against Sakusa’s pyjama clothed back.

Atsumu never say no because he _can’t_. And so he tries to just keep going; with their arrangement, with their unchanging dynamic, with the things that he’s used to.

* * *

“Tsum-tsum,” Bokuto slings an arm around Atsumu’s neck. “What’s up with you and OmiOmi?”

Atsumu clears his throat, just a little bit nervous, “Nothing. We’re just teammates.”

“Hmm,” Bokuto stares at him, face too close for comfort, eyes too calculating for the normally easy-go-lucky guy. “Does Omi-Omi owe you then?”

“Ha?” Atsumu furrows his brows, confused. “No? I mean, no. Why?”

“Because!” Bokuto grins, waves his arms around, before saying, “Hasn’t he been buying you stuff? Look, Omi-Omi is back with some snacks.” He points out to the entrance and Atsumu sees Sakusa with a grocery bag on one hand and to-go coffee cups on the other.

“So? It’s not only for me,” Atsumu frowns, still watching as Sakusa greets their teammates.

“But Omi-kun never shares with us,” Bokuto whines, lips curling into a pout.

“Yes, he does,” Atsumu tries to _reason_. Sakusa’s been doing this for the team for the whole week, it’s not _new._ Because _nothing_ changed.

Sakusa finally arrives in front of them and he stares at them for a while before laying the bag full of snacks on the bench and handing Atsumu a cup of coffee.

“Here,” Sakusa says, hand reaching out with the coffee cup.

Atsumu takes it reflexively, warmth seeping from the cup to his hands. Still, he’s staring at Sakusa like the other has gone stupid. Or was replaced by some alien that’s somehow _very_ kind.

“Thanks,” Atsumu replies belatedly. Then asks, “Where’s Bokkun’s coffee?”

Sakusa looks at him like he’s crazy. “Don’t know.”

“See?” Bokuto laughs, almost hysterical.

Atsumu doesn’t see anything funny in what’s happening. What the hell is going on with Sakusa Kiyoomi? Did he have a kind twin that somehow is pranking him? Is that it?

“Who are ya and what have ya done to Omi?” Atsumu frowns, hold on the coffee cup tightening just a little.

“What?” Sakusa looks at him, confused. He drags his mask down under his chin, grabs his own coffee and takes a sip off it. Atsumu hears his sigh of relief at the taste of caffeine and rolls his eyes. Coffee is really not Atsumu’s thing. Good thing Sakusa has learned to buy him tea disguised as coffee instead.

“This,” Atsumu raises his cup full of tea. “Why are ya doing this?”

Sakusa stares at him for a long time. Long enough that Bokuto is called by Hinata to throw some balls with him and they’re left alone to themselves. Atsumu can hear his heartbeat loud and clear.

This territory is _dangerous_.

“You said you wanted tea,” Sakusa says, taking a seat on the bench. He rummages around the snack bag, pulls out an onigiri and hands it to Atsumu. “Tuna Mayo.”

Atsumu huffs, takes a seat beside Sakusa and starts nibbling on the convenience store bought onigiri. It’s not as good as Osamu’s but it will do.

“I don’t need ya to buy me food,” Atsumu says, eyes trained on Hinata face planting after diving for a ball.

“But I wanted to,” Sakusa replies, quiet.

“What? Are ya applying to be my sugar daddy?” Atsumu snorts, finishes his onigiri before turning to Sakusa.

Sakusa’s brows are furrowed and his lips are set on a thin line and his _eyes_ ; if looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been six feet under by now.

“You don’t need a sugar daddy,” Sakusa says, deadpan.

“So why—“ Atsumu gestures between them. “—this?”

“I wanted to,” Sakusa replies, shrugging. “Besides,” he continues and Atsumu raises a brow, “I tire you often. This is the least that I can do.”

“Omi-kun!”

Atsumu’s face is on fire; the blush even traveling to his chest because— that is _embarrassing, shameless!_ How could he say that? Atsumu could never but here Sakusa is with his eyes glinting in amusement and his lips twitching into a smile, saying _shit_ like that without even blushing.

_Uuugh._

Annoying.

All he can do is bite back, “Whatever, sugar daddy.”

And it starts like that.

* * *

Honestly, at first, it was just a joke.

When Atsumu ask Sakusa to buy him ice cream and Sakusa obliges without any question, Atsumu always makes his thanks known by saying,

“Thank ya, daddy.”

Even their teammates are amused by it, teasing Sakusa and making him buy them lunch. Which Sakusa did. Kind guy, he is.

One time, Hinata, Bokuto, Sakusa, and him went out for dinner after a gruelling training session, and when it’s time for them to pay, Atsumu, the little shit that he is, lets out a faux agonised moan, saying,

“OmiOmi, I forgot my wallet today. Pay for me?”

Hinata and Bokuto knows it’s bullshit because he clearly has his card on his hand already, ready to pay. But Sakusa doesn’t even blink an eye, pays for the whole meal then cocks a brow at Atsumu once they’re outside the restaurant, just loitering around.

“Sakusa-san! You didn’t have to do that. Atsumu-san was just kidding,” Hinata frowns, his brows furrowed cutely.

“Yeah, Omi-Omi. We all know Tsum-Tsum was just joking.” Bokuto adds but his words doesn’t hold weight. He knows it’s a lost cause.

Sakusa is Sakusa after all.

Atsumu is still processing what happened. Did Sakusa just—? Why did he—? He was just joking—?

Ha?

“Uhm,” Atsumu waves his card. “I was literally joking, OmiOmi. I can pay for myself.”

Sakusa clicks his tongue, almost muffled by his mask. Atsumu hears though, so attuned to Sakusa’s habits.

“Whatever,” Sakusa says, shrugging. His ears are red and Atsumu can’t help but grin, endeared.

What the hell? Is this how friends with benefits are supposed to be? Or is Sakusa taking his role as Sugar Daddy too seriously? Atsumu snickers to himself. _Impossible_.

“Aww, Omi-Omi. Yer so kind,” Atsumu teases, watching as Sakusa’s ears redden further. “Thank ya, daddy.” He says with a shit-eating grin.

Bokuto and Hinata laughs, copying Atsumu, giving their thanks to Sakusa sans the _daddy_. Only Atsumu uses it like he’s a broken record. _Ha._

This goes on for about a week, give or take a day.

Atsumu is having fun calling Sakusa _daddy_ and watching his ears go red from embarrassment. He doesn’t know why he does it anymore, just used to teasing Sakusa and watching him flush with that stoic expression on his face.

It’s funny.

Until it’s not funny anymore but something that Atsumu keeps thinking of when alone.

Calling Sakusa _daddy_ , that is.

It’s a Sunday and Sakusa invites Atsumu for a dinner and a drink at his place. Atsumu, knowing what’s really going to happen, prepares himself; he showers thoroughly, spending an hour or so in the shower, puts lavender lotion on his skin because Sakusa seems to like that smell, dries his hair and styles it a little before heading to Sakusa’s place.

Already knowing the password to Sakusa’s apartment, Atsumu lets himself in like he owns the place. He might as well with how many days a month he spends here. Or at least, co-owner. _Hmm_.

The annoying little shit that he is, he announces his arrival with,

“Yer baby is here, daddy!”

Then lets out a cackle worthy of a villain.

He doesn’t wait for a reply, quickly placing his shoes neatly on the _genkan_ and wearing the inside slippers with fox ears in it. Atsumu shuffles to the kitchen where Sakusa is, in front of the stove, stirring something that smells like pasta.

Atsumu watches him for a while, mind jumping to somewhere it shouldn’t, like domestic bliss, before he stomps on those fantasies and makes himself known.

“Omi,” Atsumu greets, soft. He stands beside Sakusa, close enough to peer at the casserole with simmering sauce but far enough so his body doesn’t touch and startle Sakusa.

“Hey,” Sakusa greets, lips twitching to a small smile.

Atsumu grins back, “Smells good. I haven’t eaten today. ’m hungry.”

Sakusa frowns at him, “Right. I forgot you can’t cook.”

“Well, I can but I was too lazy. It’s our rest day and I wanted to _rest_ not cook, so,” He shrugs, humming with the quiet song spilling from the speaker perched on the kitchen counter.

“Whatever you say,” Sakusa retorts. “Go prepare the table.”

Atsumu nods, smiles teasingly, “Yes, daddy.”

Their dinner goes well. Sakusa’s pasta was, as expected of him, delicious. Atsumu ate his fill, claimed of having food coma, and left Sakusa to fix the dirty dishes.

Atsumu feels like a spoiled brat but well— He needs the energy for later _and_ tomorrow. After all, it’s not that easy to set a ball after having your ass destroyed by Sakusa Kiyoomi’s big dick. That’s just too much to ask from him.

When Sakusa is finished with the dishes, they watch a match on the tv, peaceful. And then Atsumu becomes restless because he hasn’t seen Sakusa’s dick for over a week now and that’s _not good_.

He crawls close to Sakusa, laying his hand on Sakusa’s thigh.

“OmiOmi,” Atsumu whispers, breathy.

Sakusa hums, turns off the tv then pulls Atsumu to his lap. Atsumu doesn’t resist, allows himself to be placed on top of Sakusa however the other wants him. He’s now straddling Sakusa’s thighs, fingers clutching on Sakusa’s shirt as he squirms on top of him.

“Let’s fuck,” Atsumu says, shameless. He grounds his ass against Sakusa’s clothed cock, moaning at the feel of it. “Come on.”

He pulls Sakusa close, lips mouthing on the corner of Sakusa’s lips.

Sakusa’s hands are on his waist, helping Atsumu move his hips on top of him.

“Yeah,” Sakusa murmurs and finally slots his lips against Atsumu’s own, kissing him deeply, tongue warm and wet inside Atsumu’s mouth.

“Wanna feel ya,” Atsumu whispers against Sakusa’s lips, nibbling on his lower lip after. He looks at Sakusa with dark eyes, desperate for the other to _ruin_ him.

“Okay,” Sakusa nips his jaw, repeats. “Okay.”

Atsumu doesn’t know which way is up or down anymore. He’s biting on the hem of his shirt that’s rolled up his chest, nipples spit slicked and hard from Sakusa biting and sucking on it. There’s the indent of Sakusa’s teeth around his left nipple, made after Atsumu provokes Sakusa by saying,

“Yer too slow, _Omi_.”

After that, he doesn’t say anything else other than repeating Sakusa’s name and a series of _pleasepleaseplease_.

It’s hot.

Atsumu whines and looks down. Sakusa has his dick inside his mouth, cheeks hollowed and wet tongue licking on his cock. The view alone could make Atsumu _come_ but Sakusa doesn’t let him. Every time Sakusa brings him to the edge with his mouth, he stops moving and instead wraps his lips on the tip of Atsumu’s cock, tongue pressing on the slit. It’s fucking _maddening_.

But Atsumu loves it. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Sakusa hums around his cock, takes in more inside his mouth until his lips are pressed on the base of Atsumu’s cock. And _ohmygod_ , Atsumu is impressed. And when Sakusa swallows around his cock, Atsumu cries out, hips thrusting inside Sakusa’s mouth. It feels so amazing, the warmth around his dick, Sakusa’s chin covered with spit, the fingers gripping his ass tightly.

“Omi—“ Atsumu sobs, fists his shirt in front of his chest. “Wanna—“ Sakusa dives in for more, like he doesn’t have Atsumu’s whole cock in his mouth and down his throat already. Atsumu hiccups, hands falling on Sakusa’s head, clutching curly strands. “ _Daddy._ ”

Sakusa _chokes_ and Atsumu’s breath hitches.

“ _What.”_ Sakusa spits after pulling off Atsumu’s dick, voice wrecked. He looks _gorgeous_ like this, Atsumu thinks.

“W-What,” Atsumu breathes in and out deeply, heart beating too fast for comfort.

“ _What_ did you just call me?” Sakusa says, hand fisting Atsumu’s cock.

“D- _Daddy?”_

“Why,” Sakusa says, almost exasperated.

Atsumu blushes deep, hides behind his hands, “I don’t know, Omi!” Then murmurs, “Jus' wanted to try.”

Sakusa pries his hands off his face and Atsumu looks at him, embarrassed— almost shy. “Okay,” he says, drops a kiss on Atsumu’s wet eyelid. “It’s fine.” Atsumu nods, puckers his lips, gets a quick kiss that makes him smile. “But I like it more when you say my name.”

Atsumu blinks at him, chest tightening for some _unknown_ reason. “Okay,” he replies, presses more kisses on Sakusa’s lips. “Okay, _Omi_.”

Sakusa smiles against his lips, kissing him deeply before going back to his place between Atsumu’s legs, where his cock is still hard, bobbing against his stomach. Sakusa doesn’t waste anytime in resuming what he was doing, taking Atsumu’s cock inside his mouth right away, down to the base. He bobs his head languidly, swirling his tongue, playing with Atsumu’s balls.

Atsumu lets out a groan, hips bucking up, his cock brushing the back of Sakusa’s throat. Sakusa only urges him, swallowing around his cock and making choking noises that arouses Atsumu more.

His orgasm comes to him fast, cock releasing down Sakusa’s throat while he moans Sakusa’s name, loud and high pitched and like a brand; _omiomiomi_.

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums as he pulls back, licking his lips, letting Atsumu’s softening cock lay on his stomach.

Atsumu is still trembling, legs shaking in Sakusa’s hold. He looks at Sakusa with hazy eyes, mind still catching up with what happened. His breath comes out in heavy pants, heart thudding wildly.

“Hey,” Sakusa whispers above Atsumu, thumb swiping on a stray tear on the corner of his eyes. “You good?”

Atsumu breathes in, then out. Repeats that three times before nodding, eyes blinking a few times before looking at Sakusa with clear gaze.

“Yeah,” He says, quiet, content. “More than good.”

Sakusa smiles and Atsumu kisses it, wanting to remember the curve of it with his lips.

“Do you want to continue?”

“Yes,” Atsumu grins, wraps his arms around Sakusa’s neck. “Anything ya wanna try?”

Sakusa grins back, shoves a thumb inside Atsumu’s mouth, “Yeah. I want to try something.”

“Okay, OmiOmi,” Atsumu stretches his body. “Do yer worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> defnitely more fluff than smut this chap..... ahaha,,, bye


	6. i wanna sleep next to you (i wanna be close to you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 06: SENSORY DEPRIVATION**
>
>> Atsumu’s heart _thuds_ ; loud, demanding.
>> 
>> He can’t hear anything but feel everything. He can see Sakusa and he wants.
> 
> **\+ added one tag. haha**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **note:** hey guys! as usual, don't try this if you don't know how to do it properly! there are dangers in kinks like this so research carefully xoxo  
>  **also:** this is a continuation of the prev chapter so it's shorter. hope you all enjoy!

Okay, yeah. Atsumu did say _do you worst_ to Sakusa but— what they’re going to do is touching on a totally different territory.

Before they start, Sakusa talks to Atsumu, careful and clear.

He asks, “Do you know what a safe word is?”

Atsumu nods, “Yeah. Mine is _vanilla_.” Sakusa cocks a brow and Atsumu is quick to explain, “I, uhm, played around with people before. Not now though! I’m only with OmiOmi right now.” He reassures, grabs Sakusa’s hand and plays with his fingers. Doesn’t know why he doesn’t want Sakusa to misunderstand.

Just— he does not want Sakusa to think he’s sleeping with other people besides him. Sakusa might think of him _dirty_ and that’s the last thing that Atsumu needs Sakusa to think about him.

“Okay,” Sakusa nods, wiggles his fingers in Atsumu’s hold. “Mine is red. Simple.”

This time, it’s Atsumu’s turn to look at Sakusa questioningly. Though he says, “Yer so boring, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa shrugs, nonchalant, “Same reason as you. And it doesn’t have to be complicated. I wanted simple. Red is simple and easy to say.”

Atsumu tilts his head, squeezes Sakusa’s hand, “That’s true. Yer so smart, OmiOmi.” He grins, looking at Sakusa with soft eyes.

Sakusa’s ears turns red and Atsumu snickers. _Cute._

Sakusa then continues, “We’re not doing— something like BDSM but I just wanted to… well, try something and,” he pauses, scratches the tip of his nose. “I trust you and uh, I hope you trust me too.”

Atsumu looks at Sakusa in wonder, like it’s the first time he’s seeing him. It might as well be, going by what Sakusa has uttered. It must have taken a lot from him, to say those words _and_ to Atsumu too, his sworn enemy turned fuckbuddy. Although were they really enemies? Atsumu doesn’t hate Sakusa, never have but Sakusa must have felt differently because before they started this… arrangement, all Sakusa can say about Atsumu is that he’s _annoying_ and _the bane of his existence_ or something along those words.

Right now though? Atsumu is curious about what Sakusa thinks of him right now.

But it’s not the right time and so Atsumu files that to the back of his head, promising to remember and ask later.

“I do,” Atsumu says after a nervous beat. “I trust ya, Kiyoomi.”

Atsumu shuffles close to Sakusa, the sheets covering his lower half pooling on the bed with a silent _whoosh_. He’s completely naked, shameless as settles in between Sakusa’s legs, hooking his arms on his shoulders and pressing his forehead against Sakusa’s own. it feels intimate, like something is _changing;_ the breeze of the wind is shifting, to something Atsumu can explain but refuses to acknowledge. _Yet._

“I trust ya so do whatever ya want,” Atsumu says, eyes shut as he whispers the words against Sakusa’s lips. He pulls back a little, mischievous grin on his lips, “Not painful though. I don’t fancy much pain before practice.”

Sakusa kisses him, slots his lips perfectly against Atsumu’s own, wet and warm and _softsoftsoft_.

“No pain,” Sakusa assures him after devouring Atsumu’s lips. “I promise.”

Atsumu nods, feeling his heart stutter, “Yeah. Okay.”

Atsumu is laying on his back, legs spread wide, cock hard and leaking pre-come on his stomach. He watches as Sakusa strips himself off his clothes; carefully drops his pants and shirt on the laundry basket. Atsumu can only watch because— because he can’t _hear_ anything.

Sakusa has put noise cancelling wireless earbuds on his hands, saying, “I want to try this— uh, sensory deprivation. Is that fine?”

Atsumu looks at the earbuds, then back up to Sakusa’s face. He looks nervous and Atsumu is, again, stumped by the sight. Sakusa is full of surprises and Atsumu can’t get enough of him.

“Yeah, Omi,” Atsumu says, rolls the wireless earbuds on his palm. “But isn’t blindfolds normally used?”

Sakusa nods, watching Atsumu intently, “Yeah but I want to see your eyes while I fuck you. This is the next best thing.”

“Oh,” Atsumu’s cheeks blooms in a deep blush, somehow shy at hearing Sakusa’s words. “Okay. Alright. Let’s try it.”

Sakusa offers him a small smile and Atsumu thinks, again, he’ll never get enough of him.

So now here Atsumu is, one hand around his cock, pumping leisurely as he waits for Sakusa to come back to bed. The earbuds on his ears are high quality, not even letting any sound escape from the outside. All Atsumu can hear is the blood rushing through his ears as his heart thuds just a little bit wildly every time Sakusa glances at him.

A minute or so passes before Sakusa finally joins him on the bed. Sakusa’s lips are moving and Atsumu is staring, trying to read his lips but he can’t, it’s too hard and his mind is too slow right now, pleasure slowly clouding his senses.

“Omi,” Atsumu says, maybe a whisper, maybe a shout. He doesn’t know and that’s what makes it so— different, exciting in a way.

Sakusa hovers above him, joins his hand that’s pumping his cock and starts to move languidly. Sakusa’s lips are moving again and the only word that Atsumu can make out is the syllables of his name.

“… _Atsumu,”_ is what Sakusa mouths and Atsumu is curious, desperately wanting to hear Sakusa’s deep voice.

Atsumu wants to shut his eyes so badly but he continues to trail after Sakusa’s face, just so he can read his lips. It doesn’t last long though because when Sakusa settles in between his legs, hoists Atsumu’s right leg on his shoulders and traces the rim of his asshole, Atsumu can’t help but moan and shut his eyes.

His stomach clenches at the feeling of Sakusa’s thumb tracing his puckered entrance, the lack of sound making Atsumu focus more on Sakusa’s touch. Sakusa’s finger disappears for a bit, ripping a whine off Atsumu’s throat before it’s back, wet, a little bit cold. _Lube_. Atsumu wiggles his hips, thrusts against Sakusa’s fingers, wanting the long digits inside of him.

“OmiOmi, _please_ ,” Atsumu moans, breathy. Or he thinks it’s breathy. It might as well be a scream with how he can hear nothing but the vibration of his voice.

When Sakusa pushes a wet finger inside him, Atsumu jerks, eyes snapping open as his mouth parts, deep seated groan slipping out of his lips.

He pulls Sakusa close to him, wanting to see Sakusa’s face in the midst of the white noise he’s hearing. It’s soothing and Atsumu wants him there forever. Sakusa is mouthing words again and this time Atsumu catches the _pretty. sensitive_. that makes up the sentence he’s saying.

Atsumu grinds his hips against Sakusa’s finger, wanting to feel _moremoremore_. Sakusa is looking at him with his dark eyes full of lust once again, setting Atsumu’s body on fire and wanting to have everything that Sakusa can give him.

Another finger joins the one inside him and this time, Sakusa lays a hand on Atsumu’s stomach and pistons his fingers inside Atsumu’s hole, brushing against his prostate a few times. It rips out a shriek out of Atsumu, his head thrown back, neck straining. He can feel himself let out a moans after moans followed by chanting Sakusa’s name like it’s a prayer. His eyes are wet and when he blinks a few times, Sakusa is there, licking the lone tear sliding down the side of his face.

Atsumu’s heart _thuds;_ loud, demanding.

He can’t hear anything but feel everything. He can see Sakusa and he _wants_.

“Fuck me,” Atsumu says, hopefully loud enough for Sakusa to hear. “Fuck me, please. Omi— Omi—“

Sakusa litters his face with kisses, can feel the vibration on his cheeks as he shushes him soothingly. His fingers though does not let up and continues to move in and out of Atsumu, making sure he’s loose enough to take Sakusa’s dick.

“‘m ready. Come on, come on. Omi. Yer dick, want—“ Atsumu babbles as he fucks against Sakusa’s fingers, his cock brushing his stomach, neglected while it leaks copious amount of pre-come.

Sakusa swipes the pre-come on his stomach, shoves his fingers in Atsumu’s mouth, all while continuing to finger Atsumu’s wet hole. Atsumu can’t help but suck on the long fingers in his mouth, humming and swirling his tongue around it.

Then it’s gone.

Atsumu’s breath turns ragged. He blinks at Sakusa who’s staring at him intently, chest heaving. He feels somewhat exposed, _fragile_ under Sakusa’s gaze. Sakusa mouths something, too fast for Atsumu to decipher. Again, he _wants_. Badly.

Feeling the head of Sakusa’s dick against his hole after being fingered for so long feels like a relief to Atsumu. If he was more coherent and not just a lust driven cockslut, Atsumu would’ve been careful of what _shit_ he’s letting slip out of his lips. But he’s too high strung, wanting to come with Sakusa’s dick slotted inside him.

He babbles, constant, loud, “Want yer dick, Omi.” And, “ _Kiyoomi, want ya. So much.”_

It comes back to one feeling, a word; _want_.

Atsumu screams when Sakusa pushes his cock in one go, punching a breath out of him. It feels good. _So good_.

Sakusa waits for a bit before moving, rubbing soothing circles on Atsumu’s inner thigh. When he moves, it’s long strokes, deeper, hitting his prostate dead on. Atsumu can’t do anything but lay there and _take it_. He thinks he might have wailed and screamed a few more times but he’s not sure. The only thing he knows is that Sakusa is fucking him so hard and deep that Atsumu feels like he wouldn’t be able to recover from it. He’d want Sakusa’s dick inside him now, all the time.

That thought makes him moan, hips moving and meeting Sakusa’s deep thrusts. Sakusa fucks him like that until his dick is twitching, wanting attention. A hand grasp his cock then, pumping fast. Atsumu thinks he’ll come again, feeling so good, so much, it’s almost painful. He writhes on the bed, wraps his arms around Sakusa’s neck, holds on tightly until one ear bud falls from his ears and suddenly, _he can hear_.

He can hear and it’s not music but Sakusa chanting his name.

It’s the, _tsumutsumu, so beautiful. so good_ that he hears. And followed by, _i’m coming. take it. you’re such a good boy_.

Hearing those would have frozen him but it only adds to Atsumu’s pleasure, his mind going hazy at the thought of Sakusa just— telling him to _take it,_ just like the cockslut that he is.

It’s Sakusa who comes first, thrusts going erratic before his body tenses, his hold on Atsumu tight, almost painful. He comes with a full body shudder and an _atsumu_ moaned on Atsumu’s collarbone.

The hand on Atsumu’s cock slackens for a beat before it resumes jerking him off. Atsumu doesn’t last long, coming with a groan, hold on Sakusa tightening.

His mind is still in shambles when Sakusa slips out of him, the squelch as he takes out his cock obscene. Atsumu whines at the movement, fingers flexing on the sheets where Sakusa has laid his arms after holding onto him for dear life.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa brushes his sweaty bangs off his face, looking at him, content. “Good?”

Atsumu nods, hums, “Water.”

Sakusa reaches out to the bedside table, opens a bottle of water and helps Atsumu gulp half of it down.

“Wow,” Atsumu says after wiping the corner of his lips. “Omi, what the hell.”

Sakusa stares at him, then his eyes widens, “Did I hurt you?”

Atsumu chuckles, shakes his head, “No. I was just— Omi, that was intense. Almost overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa admits and as if just noticing now, plucks the ear bud that’s still on Atsumu’s ear. “Did one fall?”

Atsumu nods, “Sure did.” He grins, shows Sakusa the ear bud that has fallen earlier. “ _You’re such a good boy_?” Atsumu mimics.

Sakusa sputters, looking almost embarrassed.

“Omi, _yer such a bad boy_ ,” he teases, giggling.

“Shut up,” Sakusa rolls his eyes.

“I liked it.” Atsumu admits. “But I like hearing your voice more.”

There’s a shift, Atsumu can feel it. The lamp casting shadows on Sakusa’s face makes him look soft, _ethereal_. He’s beautiful, Atsumu thinks. And maybe it’s his stupid horny brain that’s talking but Atsumu wants to keep him.

Maybe a wishful thinking.

“Yeah?” Sakusa smiles. “I like hearing your voice too.”

And it’s that kind of tone that makes Atsumu hesitate. Because it’s indulging, like throwing a compliment just because he gave them a compliment. It makes him second guess.

But then Sakusa says,

“And I really like your eyes. So bright.”

And Atsumu thinks maybe it’s not wishful thinking.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> herkjfdsklfkdslksdf. the feels,,,,,, welp


	7. i'm messed up for you (sugar in my eyes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 07: Phone Sex/Facetime Sex**
>
>> He screams on the pillow, muffled. He’s really set himself up for rejection this time around.
>> 
>> Sakusa Kiyoomi is too blunt and frustrating and why did Atsumu even try.
>> 
>> Fuck him.
> 
> **\+ added the tag!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so short,,,, ahahaha

The feeling that has been sitting— _simmering_ inside Atsumu takes a backseat when practice becomes too tiring and they are too busy and tired to meet up and do anything with each other. Atsumu would have loved to fuck everyday, would have loved to be with Sakusa out of work where despite Sakusa still buying him tea and food, the only proper interaction they have is _nice kill!_ and _you could have hit that!_ plus the ever present _you’re annoying_.

Their interactions contradict what Atsumu has concluded earlier. They _do_ hate each other. Or maybe just _dislike_ , a little less intense than hate. Or maybe they tolerate each other because the sex is phenomenal. Atsumu hasn’t decide yet. All he can say right now is that Sakusa is a _menace_. Especially when Sakusa spikes a ball to the back of Atsumu’s head _accidentally_. Atsumu calls bullshit because they’re professional volleyball players now and Sakusa’s one of the _best_ there is at volleyball. Accidental? More like intentional.

He ends up throwing a ball on Sakusa’s face, earning him a pained groan and a killing glare.

_Ha, served him right._

Despite that, Atsumu still does appreciate the small gestures. The tea disguised as coffee, the convenience store bought _onigiri_ , and sometimes the soft pat that lands on his back when he does something _right_. Atsumu reciprocates all of this; like having a disinfectant always ready for Sakusa to use because sometimes Sakusa forgets; and always going for the first serve of food when they’re out with their teammates because sharing food is inevitable but the first serve seems to be what Sakusa likes best, so Atsumu always— _always_ —takes food first, puts it in Sakusa’s plate and watches as some sort of grateful expression crosses the other’s face.

It’s give and take. And that’s what matters with this… set-up that they have.

 _Still_ , even though there are changes with how they act towards and with each other, Atsumu doesn’t think they will get over this rivalry they’ve had for each other for so long.

Will Atsumu ever? Now that’s a loaded question that he doesn’t dare answer. It might open a floodgate of _something_ and he’s not ready for that yet.

Not right now, anyways.

And so he doesn’t get any _at all_ for weeks. That’s outrageous in and of itself. Well, he does have his hands and toys _but_ after being with Sakusa for _this_ long, Atsumu can’t go back to just doing it by himself. Which is annoying.

Sakusa really _ruined_ everything for Atsumu.

He needs a compensation and quick.

With that in mind, Atsumu picks up his phone and dials Sakusa’s number. Actually, it’s surprising even for him that he has Sakusa’s number, he can’t remember the time he got it but it must have been long ago since they have never contacted each other directly by phone. Always by friends or talking face-to-face.

Huh.

Something inside him cracks and maybe it’s the line drawn between them; that ever present _we shouldn’t_ feeling rising from deep within.

But _anyways_ , Atsumu is not calling Sakusa to be emotional. He’s calling so he can get some good fucking or something along those lines.

The call rings four times and Atsumu is ready to just hung-up because he _hates_ waiting for people to pick up his phone call. People seems to be on their phone all the time nowadays and if they don’t pick up right away, that just means they’re avoiding. Which is just— _great_. It’s cool.

Sakusa answers by the end of the fourth ring and Atsumu is suddenly speechless. No thoughts, head empty, as twitter fans always tells him.

“Hello?”

Atsumu clears his throat, “Heya, OmiOmi!”

“Miya?” Sakusa says, rustling sheets heard from his side of the call. Atsumu assumes he’s preparing for bed. After all it’s already ten in the evening and they have an early day again tomorrow.

“Yeah!” Atsumu smiles to himself then asks, “Watcha doin’, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa heaves a sigh, breathy and static sounding through the phone. “Just watching a match. Why did you call?”

Atsumu shrugs, hums, “Felt like it.” Then adds, “Are ya sure yer not watching porn, OmiOmi? After all, it’s been so long and—“

Sakusa cuts him off, “Miya.” Atsumu shuts up, fidgets with the hem of his pyjama top. “Be honest. What is it that you really want?”

Atsumu takes in a deep breath, asks with his heart on his throat, “Can I come over?”

“No.” Sakusa replies quickly, unforgiving.

Atsumu snaps his mouth shut and his body falls slack against the headboard of his bed, disappointed, ashamed.

“Oh,” Atsumu breathes out. “Okay.”

Then the call ends, silence from the other side.

Atsumu wants to throw his phone against the wall but it’s new and he’s not even finished paying for it yet so he rolls in his bed and screams against his pillow instead, punching it in frustration.

“ _Fuck ya, Kiyoomi! Fuck off. Go die of blue balls! See if I’ll letcha fuck me again! Fuck ya!”_

He screams on the pillow, muffled. He’s really set himself up for rejection this time around.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is too blunt and frustrating and why did Atsumu even try.

Fuck him.

His phone rings and Atsumu presses the accept button for video call right away when he sees Sakusa’s name on the screen.

“ _What_ ,” Atsumu snaps, red face half hidden on the pillow.

Sakusa’s face is clear on his phone screen so Atsumu can see very clearly when he raises a brow, questioning Atsumu’s prickly attitude.

Atsumu huffs, looks at his own self on the screen only to realise that it’s dark. He shuffles around, turns his bedside light on, checks if the lighting is good enough and smiles to himself when it is.

“What do ya want, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks, rude. The remnants of his rejection still fresh in his mind and really, he shouldn’t blame Sakusa for that but Atsumu is a brat and he won’t admit that it’s his _wrong_ , not Sakusa’s. So he continues to glare at Sakusa like Sakusa has killed his pet fish.

Even though he doesn’t have a pet fish.

Tsk.

“Are you mad that I hung up on you?” Sakusa asks, lips twitching. Atsumu wants to squish his cheeks together painfully.

“No. Why,” Atsumu replies tersely.

“You are,” Sakusa points out and Atsumu huffs. “Sorry,” Sakusa says, eyes apologetic.

Atsumu furrows his brows, looks at Sakusa through the screen intently, scrutinising.

“Whatever. Why did you video call anyways,” Atsumu continues his cold replies but he can feel himself relaxing, Sakusa’s stable presence, albeit through the screen, grounding him and washing away his embarrassment from earlier.

If Sakusa called him back, doesn’t that mean Atsumu is not in the wrong? Right? Of course.

Sakusa hesitates for a beat then says, “Thought we could try facetime sex. Since we have to wake up early tomorrow and practice for the whole day, being exhausted is not that appealing. So… uh, I— thought this is a good alternative.”

Atsumu is stumped. Like, why haven’t he thought of this before? Why is it Sakusa who asks _him_ to do phone sex and not him? Why is he so stupid?

“Oh,” Atsumu breathes out, hold on his phone tightening. He leans on the headboard, mind already making up fantasies of what they can do together _while_ apart. Facetime sex! Phone sex! Any long distance sex! Wow. “Yer so smart, OmiOmi! _And_ kinky! I love that.” Atsumu grins, holding his phone closer to his face.

Sakusa rolls his eyes, lips pulling into a small smile. “Right. Do you want to or not?”

“I want to, I want to!” He exclaims, then pouts. “But I don’t think I can hold my phone while jerking off. That’s too hard, Omi.”

Sakusa sighs, exasperated and maybe a little fond. Atsumu can only hope.

“Put it on your bedside table. If you have a tripod, use that. If not, I’ll buy you one later but for now put your phone against a glass or mug.”

“Yes, sir. So demanding.”

Sadly, Atsumu doesn’t have a tripod so he ends up leaning his phone against his half-full tea mug. It slips a few times, making him huff in frustration and Sakusa to snicker at his antics. When the phone finally behaves on its perch on the table and against the mug, he scoots on his bed, far enough that his body shows completely but close enough that he can see Sakusa.

“Right,” Sakusa says, shuffling around his bed. “What do you want to do, Miya?”

“Wait, wait. OmiOmi, ya have a tripod?!”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, “Everyone has it nowadays, Miya. You’re the only one who doesn’t.”

Atsumu pouts, “I don’t know what ta use it for.”

“Phone sex. Like this,” Sakusa’s lips pulls into a teasing grin and Atsumu wants to kiss that grin so bad.

“‘m not as kinky as ya, Omi-kun.” Atsumu teases back, sticking his tongue out, childish.

“You’re the one who wants to come over for a fuck,” Sakusa retorts, matter-of-fact.

And well, Atsumu can’t deny that so he sits there and pouts.

Sakusa smiles at him, presses his thumb on the screen, just to the side so he isn’t fully covered by his finger.

He says, “I really want to touch you.”

And Atsumu— Atsumu _falls_.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, combing a hand through his hair. “Me too, Omi.”

“Touch yourself, ‘ _tsumu_ ,” Sakusa says, a change of tone. The lights casting shadows on his face makes him look almost intimidating. But Atsumu trusts him and so he does what is asked of him.

Atsumu doesn’t do _slow_ so he drags his pants and boxers down his knees and fists his cock lightly, pumping his hands slowly. He lets out a breathy moan, eyes following Sakusa’s actions on the phone screen.

“‘tsumu,” Sakusa moans, hand also around his cock. He pauses and Atsumu does too, waiting to see what Sakusa is going to do. Sakusa snaps a bottle of lube open, smears his hands with more lube than necessary and goes back to pumping his dick, letting out a hiss at the first contact of his lubed covered fingers.

Atsumu _watches_ , doesn’t move for a while because the sight of Sakusa, on his bed, eyes shut and pumping his cock with Atsumu’s name spilling out of his lips— It’s better than any porn Atsumu has ever watched and he’s watched _a lot_. If Sakusa Kiyoomi ever changes profession, Atsumu would suggest him become a pornstar or camboy. Atsumu would spend _thousands_ on him, he’s that beautiful.

But also, Atsumu doesn’t like the thought of anyone just watching Sakusa. This sight is for him only and it is _his_ name on Sakusa’s lips. This show is for him only.

Still frozen, he watches Sakusa open his eyes, half-lidded, then say, “‘tsumu, don’t stop touching yourself.”

Atsumu’s breath hitches and his hand flies to his hard cock, already leaking pre-come. He’s become so hard just at the sight of Kiyoomi’s face and dick and everything about him. Atsumu nods, pumps his cock slowly, spreading his legs wider.

“Omi,” he hears Omi hum as he continues to fuck into his hands, realising to late it’s too dry to feel _amazing._ He quickly pours lube onto his hands and pumps his dick to the same pace as Sakusa. He watches Sakusa for a while, twisting his hand the same way, moaning after Sakusa lets out a groan, until he can’t keep his eyes on him anymore. He moves his hand the way he likes, fast and gripping his cock tight. Moans slips out of his mouth, overriding Sakusa’s voice spilling out of his phone’s speaker.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa calls out and it’s strained, deep. Atsumu slowly blinks his eyes open, sees Sakusa pump his hands faster, red lips parted, wet with spit. He looks gorgeous.

The view shown on his phone’s screen urges Atsumu to move his hands quicker, his other hand trailing under his shirt to twist his nipple. _Feels good_. He and Sakusa stare at each other, jerking themselves off until they come simultaneously, Sakusa with a loud moan and Atsumu with a quiet sob, mouthing Sakusa’s name as he continues to fuck up into his hands, cock spent, stomach and hand covered in sticky come.

Sakusa is no better, breathing heavily and just sitting there quietly, catching his breath. Then he moves quick, tissue wipes cleaning his hand and stomach, even his thighs.

Atsumu looks at him, _endeared_.

Yeah, that’s Sakusa alright.

“Omi,” Atsumu calls out. “We should do this more often.”

Sakusa snorts, fixes his shirt and shorts, now looking pristine and proper.

“Don’t think so,” he replies and Atsumu pouts at him, getting closer to the phone.

“Why not, OmiOmi?” Atsumu whines, using his puppy dog eyes.

Sakusa, for some reason, is immune to his puppy dog eyes, not even swayed by his whining.

“We don’t need to,” Sakusa says. Atsumu furrows his brows, confused. “I’ll let you come over next time.”

“Really?” Atsumu smiles, wide, bouncing on his bed. “What about tomorrow?”

Sakusa nods, small smile painted on his face, “Yeah, come over.”

“OmiOmi!” Atsumu clutches his chest, dramatic. “Ya spoil me.”

Atsumu doesn’t expect a reply to that but Sakusa says, “Always.”

That— Well, that makes him _want_ even more. So he suggests they talk until they fall asleep, expecting to be turned down but Sakusa says _yes,_ makes Atsumu wait for half an hour because Sakusa _has_ to shower. When both of them are finally freshly showered and cuddled under their duvets, phones now on their grasp, Atsumu babbles about everything and nothing and Sakusa hums and adds to the conversation in the right places.

It feels so— It feels so _nice,_ like this. Atsumu’s heart is warm, can’t wait for tomorrow. He falls asleep to Sakusa’s quiet breathing, their video call still ongoing.  
  


When he wakes up in the morning, he has a text from Sakusa.

> **Sakusa Kiyoomi:  
> ** _Good night, ‘tsumu.  
> _ _Sleep well._

Atsumu screams, punching his pillow.

It feels nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> atsu,,,, mu,,, ya okay,,, there,, buddy,, lol


	8. i felt it burning in the way (i couldn't say it to myself)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 08: RIMMING/BUKKAKE (but really just facial)**
>
>> “Look at you,” Sakusa says and Atsumu opens his left eye, swallowing the come on his tongue. “So pretty.”
>> 
>> “Yeah?” Atsumu grins, tilting his head a bit more.
>> 
>> “Yeah,” Sakusa breathes out as he swipes the come on Atsumu’s eyelid and allows Atsumu to lick it from his fingers. “Very pretty.”
> 
> **+updated tags!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont let the summary fool you,, actually do ehehe

The next day, after practice and after Coach Foster has told them the change to their training routine starting next week, Atsumu quickly rushes to get his belongings and leave for his apartment. But not before shouting his goodbyes to his teammates and a meaningful glance towards Sakusa, mouthing a _see ya._

He can’t wait to spend another night with Sakusa.

But first he has to go back home to shower, wash every nook and cranny of his body and make himself smell _amazing_. Not only that but he has to eat the onigiris that Osamu took with him when he paid a visit earlier in the week before they turn bad. Or maybe they have turned stale. Well then.

Atsumu rushes home with almost a skip on his steps, does his business while humming an unknown song, and arrives in front of Sakusa’s door 8PM sharp. He’s punctual like that.

When Sakusa opens the door, Atsumu grins at him and steps close but not close enough to touch. He _craves_.

“Heya, Omi-kun!” He greets, eyes bright, crinkling as he smiles wide. “Miss me?”

Sakusa opens the door wide, steps to the side to let Atsumu come in, while saying, “We saw each other today.”

_True but this time is different,_ Atsumu thinks but instead replies, mischievous,

“I know ya miss me, OmiOmi.”

He steps inside, leaving his shoes neatly on the _genkan_ and wears the red fox slippers that he’s claimed to himself. He once asked Sakusa about it and the only reply he got is that he likes foxes. Atsumu has never heard such shitty lie from Sakusa before but he didn’t pry too much. Maybe it’s not a lie, maybe Atsumu is just getting rusty with spotting bullshit. It doesn’t matter much though because Atsumu likes foxes too and this slipper is soft and comfortable. Perfect for him.

“Didja eat yet, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks as he settles his overnight duffle bag beside the sofa. Then he plops on the couch and waits for Sakusa to join him.

Sakusa joins him after, black fox slipper on his feet that Atsumu only noticed now. The sight makes him almost coo because it’s so— uncharacteristic for Sakusa to wear something like _that_. It’s more Atsumu’s type than Sakusa. But then again Sakusa did say he likes foxes _so—_

Whatever.

“Yeah,” Sakusa replies as he joins Atsumu on the couch, sitting close.

Atsumu turns to him, grabs his wrist softly, _gentle._ Sakusa turns his hand palms up and Atsumu tickles his palm with a giggle before intertwining their fingers together. As Atsumu has observe before, Sakusa does have longer and bigger hands than him but they’re bonier compared to Atsumu’s own. Looking at their hands, Atsumu thinks _it belongs_.

Or some shit like that.

“Hey,” Sakusa tugs on his hand and Atsumu looks at him. “Let’s go to bed.”

Atsumu smirks, sing-songs, “Aw, OmiOmi. Where’s the romance, huh? What about foreplay? Yer too horny, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes at Atsumu’s antics, stands up, pulling Atsumu with him as he retorts, “Foreplay in bed.”

“Okay, OmiOmi.” Atsumu grins and follows Sakusa to his bedroom, already half-hard from anticipation.

Yeah, okay.

When Atsumu complained about the foreplay— _jokingly!—_ he didn’t think of the consequences. Maybe because he thought Sakusa is as repressed as him these past weeks or he’s just not thinking much about his words. Whatever the reason, he really didn’t mean for Sakusa to be so— _competitive._ Or _petty?_

He can’t think clearly right now.

“You good, ‘tsumu?” Sakusa asks, hovering on top of Atsumu’s bare body.

Atsumu narrows his eyes at Sakusa, tugs at his curly hair just a bit too harshly. Serves him right.

“Can ya hurry up,” he demands, pouting.

Sakusa smiles at him, condescending and annoying and _handsome_. Ugh, Atsumu hates his face with a burning passion right now. He _can’t_ say no or argue while looking at that face. It’s just— impossible. _Fuck_.

“But you wanted foreplay, _Atsumu_. I’m giving you it,” he replies, voice a teasing drawl.

“Seriously, I didn’t mean it. Can ya jus—”

His words are cut off by Sakusa taking his whole cock inside his mouth and down his throat. Honestly, doesn’t he have a gag reflex? Atsumu, until this day, still can’t take a whole dick down his throat without choking. Especially Sakusa’s, the monster that it is. Not that Sakusa is complaining, Atsumu knows Sakusa likes it when Atsumu chokes and sobs around his dick, filthy and wet.

Atsumu’s hips can’t help but buckle, thrusting inside Sakusa’s warm mouth. He sobs, so turned on and desperate to come but Sakusa refuses to let him. And so Atsumu is left writhing on the bed, legs shaking against Sakusa’s hold, moans coming out of him constantly.

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums when he pulls away with an obscene pop. He massages Atsumu’s thighs before latching on it, teeth digging on the supple flesh. “You taste good, Atsumu.”

Atsumu lets out a cry when Sakusa’s teeth pierces his flesh. Anymore harder and he’d have broken the skin. The pain feels so _good_ , Atsumu’s mind goes white for a second. When he blinks back from his bliss, he looks at Sakusa then to his thigh and fists Sakusa’s hair _painfully_.

“Omi, whatta fuck,” He breathes, eyes wide. Still, that’s kind of hot but— “Why there? Everyone will see it!”

Sakusa shrugs, goes back to sucking bruises on Atsumu’s warm and thick thighs. He kneads it a couple of times before sinking his teeth on another patch of skin. Atsumu doesn’t even complain, just takes it, a loud moan ripping out of his throat. _Ohmygod_.

Does Atsumu have a pain kink? Or marking kink? Teeth kink? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that Sakusa biting him feels good and he loves it when Sakusa’s tongue laps on the bruised flesh after, arousal traveling through his veins.

“Let them,” Sakusa murmurs against his inner thigh, very close to his hard cock. Atsumu thrusts up into the air, urging Sakusa to put his mouth back on his cock. “Looks pretty on you,” he says, thumbing on a bruised patch.

Atsumu’s breath hitches and he murmurs, “Please, please. Omi, come on. I wanna come.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa breathes out, blowing warm air on Atsumu’s balls.

Atsumu jerks then groans loud, throwing his head back as his eyes falls shut. The torture only gets worse when Sakusa latches his mouth on the skin beside his twitching hole, his warm breath teasing.

“You cleaned properly?” Sakusa mumbles against his skin.

Atsumu lets out a breathy chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, OmiOmi. Even fingered myself so ya can just put yer dick inside but ya aint!”

“Brat,” Sakusa says then puts his fucking mouth on his asshole, sucking loudly.

Atsumu’s brain malfunctions and the only thing he can do is hold Sakusa’s face there, hands trembling on his dark hair. Sakusa uses his thumb to spread Atsumu’s hole, takes a small lick and hums at the taste.

“Vanilla?”

Atsumu groans, brings his hands to cover his face. “I toldja… I like vanilla.”

“Tastes good,” Sakusa says, taking another lick, spreading Atsumu’s hole wider, poking his tongue just a little bit inside.

“Yeah?” Atsumu breathes out. “I… uh— only use edible lube, so…” He stutters at first then regains confidence and hooks his arms on the crook of his knees, showing Sakusa everything that he has. “Have at it, OmiOmi.”

Sakusa licks his lips, rubs a thumb softly on Atsumu’s hole, sinking in a little. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes going even darker is enough for Atsumu to know that he’s going to _ruin_ him tonight.

And ruin him Sakusa does.

Sakusa puts his mouth on Atsumu’s asshole again, tongue licking a stripe from his perineum to his balls then back to his wet hole. It feels _so good_. It’s not the first time Sakusa eats his ass but it’s the first time they’re taking it _slow_ and shit, that makes Atsumu _feel_.

Feel like he’s going to fall into pieces only for Sakusa to glue him back again by the pleasure he’s making Atsumu feel. His tongue is a _sin_. So fucking talented. He flicks the wet muscle on Atsumu’s twitching hole, sucking hard on it as if he’s making out with it and Atsumu absolutely _loses_ his mind.

Sakusa eats his ass like it’s what he’s wanted to do all along and Atsumu can’t complain. He’s so _close_ to coming just from Sakusa eating his ass. That’s fucking new. His dick sits against his stomach, leaking pre-come, _twitching_ and still, Atsumu could come untouched, just from Sakusa’s tongue inside his ass.

“ _‘m coming,”_ Atsumu cries, hold on his legs slacking, letting his thighs fall beside Sakusa’s head. He clutches on the sheets, body shaking. “ _Coming, coming, omiomiomi.”_

Sakusa hums against his hole, sending vibrations on his body. Atsumu hiccups as he looks down, his bangs wet with sweat and plastered to his face. He watches and _feels_ as Sakusa grips the flesh of his asscheeks and pulls his ass closer to his face, burying his face on Atsumu’s ass.

Atsumu’s orgasm comes to him like lightning, zapping his body with too much pleasure until his dick twitches on his stomach and spurts white liquid without stimulation. He comes untouched, body tensing for a beat before he shakes and cries, Sakusa still plunging his tongue inside his ass, sucking hard. He hiccups, tries to push Sakusa’s face away, can’t because his arms are too weak, feeling like jelly.

“Omi,” Atsumu tugs on Sakusa’s hair. “S-Stop.”

Sakusa hums, takes a kitten lick of his wet hole before pulling back completely. Atsumu studies his face, wet with saliva, lips red and plump. He looks _gorgeous_. Atsumu pulls him into a kiss, tongue delving inside Sakusa’s mouth. He can taste the vanilla on Sakusa’s tongue and kisses Sakusa even deeper, clutching at him tightly.

When they pull away, they’re breathing heavily, forehead leaning against each other’s. He licks Sakusa’s lips, smiles, kisses him again _just because_.

“Hey,” Sakusa mouths at his lips, nipping a little. “Can I come on your face?”

Atsumu blinks back at him, “Uhm, yes? OmiOmi, ya ate my ass. The least I can do is have yer come as moisturiser.”

“You’re making my dick soft,” Sakusa deadpans, hands coming to scoop the come on Atsumu’s stomach before fisting his own cock and settling on top of Atsumu, close to his face.

“Impossible,” Atsumu grins, licks his lips at the sight of Sakusa’s cock. Still so _pretty_. He badly wants it in his mouth. Maybe later.

Sakusa starts pumping his dick with his hands, using Atsumu’s come as lube. Atsumu thinks it’s not enough but it must feel good because Sakusa is breathing heavily, looking down at Atsumu while he fucks up into his hand. Atsumu can’t help himself; he scoots down a little, leans in and sucks on the head of Sakusa’s dick, moaning at the taste of his pre-come and the smell of purely Sakusa, clean, _amazing_.

“ _Atsumu_ ,” Sakusa moans, his other hand coming to clutch Atsumu’s soft hair. Atsumu allows him to move his head, up, down, but not fully inserting his dick inside Atsumu’s mouth. “Hmm, come on. Let me see your face.” Sakusa says, almost in a stutter, his stomach clenching, thighs shaking as he chases his own release.

Atsumu pulls back from his cock, tilts his head and closes his eyes. He opens his mouth just a little, wanting some of Sakusa’s release to land on his tongue so he could swallow it. When Sakusa comes, he tightens his hold on Atsumu’s hair, moans Atsumu’s name and comes in thick spurts. The first one lands on Atsumu’s cheek, the following ones on his forehead, some on his nose and right eyelid, then on his tongue. They slide on Atsumu’s skin, thick and just a little bit uncomfortable.

“Look at you,” Sakusa says and Atsumu opens his left eye, swallowing the come on his tongue. “So pretty.”

“Yeah?” Atsumu grins, tilting his head a bit more.

“Yeah,” Sakusa breathes out as he swipes the come on Atsumu’s eyelid and allows Atsumu to lick it from his fingers. “Very pretty.”

“Thank ya.” Atsumu smiles, blushing.

“Let’s get you cleaned,” Sakusa tells him as he pulls away. Atsumu whines and pouts because,

“Hey, ya didn’t fuck me,” He complains.

Sakusa cocks a brow, “You wanted me to fuck you that bad?”

Atsumu continues to pout, “Then what’s the point of coming over.” It’s a joke and he knows it and Sakusa knows it.

But—

“I wanted to be with you,” Sakusa replies, serious.

Atsumu’s breath stutters from its inhale, his heart thudding too fast for comfort. Sakusa’s eyes is dark and it’s looking at him with this— _this_ look that Atsumu absolutely hates.

No— He doesn’t hate it. He _likes_ it.

And that’s the problem.

“OmiOmi, what are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Atsumu laughs, so _fake_. Nervous. “Aren’t we here to have sex or am I wrong?”

Sakusa furrows his brows, his lips pulls into a tight line. “Atsumu,” he says and Atsumu wants to run already. He doesn’t. “Let’s talk after cleaning up, okay?”

Atsumu nods, automatic. His mind is in shambles like— is this really happening? What even is happening? What’s going on? He just had an orgasm, has come on his face, even had a dick on his lips just a few minutes ago and— and _this_?

What.

Sakusa goes to the ensuite bathroom then comes back a few minutes after, covered with a fluffy white bathrobe with another bathrobe on his arms and a wet cloth on the other. Atsumu looks at him and sits there, still frozen, while Sakusa wipes his face, his stomach, his hands, his _ass_. What the fuck _._

Atsumu’s brain is refusing to process anything. It has taken a vacation after Sakusa gave him a facial. Probably.

“Alright?” Sakusa asks after tying Atsumu’s bathrobe around his waist.

Atsumu blinks, looks at himself, clean and wearing a bathrobe identical to Sakusa’s.

“Omi,” Atsumu says. “What the hell.”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa starts and his voice is— nervous, shaking. Atsumu looks at him properly and sees his hands also trembling on his lap. _He’s nervous— scared_. “Do you like being with me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu nods, unable to lie. “Yers and mine’s body is compatible, OmiOmi.”

“I don’t mean that,” Sakusa is careful with his words, voice levelled. Atsumu wants him to be _quick_. Pull the bandaid and all that. “I mean, _do you like me?”_

There it is.

“Uh,” Atsumu opens his mouth then closes it, can’t find the words he wants to say.

Will he ever?

He’s been feeling so— out of sorts lately. He _feels_ and he _wants_ and he _craves_ for _moremoremore_. He wants _everything_ , is that so bad? When his heart shouts at him every time, the thud of: _kiyoomi kiyoomi kiyoomi_ constant, like a goddamn prayer and he _wants_. Is that so bad?

“I like you,” Sakusa says after a while of Atsumu just staring at him like he’s grown two heads. “I want to be with you.” His hands reaches out, taking Atsumu’s own and interlacing their fingers. His fingers are cold and trembling and Atsumu wants to keep him close to him; his warmth, his stability, his _understanding_.

“Oh,” Atsumu breathes out, fingers squeezing Sakusa’s own. “You do.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa rubs small comforting circles on his knuckles. Atsumu stares at their hands, fitting like puzzle pieces.

“Huh,” Atsumu’s chest _hurts_ ; it’s tight and he can’t _breathe_.

Because this _can’t_ be happening.

Why? Why him? Why Miya Atsumu when there are millions and billions of people who’d love to be with one Sakusa Kiyoomi. _Whywhywhy_.

“You—” Sakusa pauses, gulps. His palms are sweaty, Atsumu observes. _So brave_. “You don’t have to answer now. Take your time. I’m here.” He says, then adds, “Always.”

“Always,” Atsumu repeats like a broken record, voice flat.

“Let’s sleep,” Sakusa sighs, and it feels like an ending; a dagger to his heart.

Why is Atsumu like this? Why can’t he _say_ anything?

_Why him?_

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: no plot  
> sakuatsu: yes plot  
> me crying while writing this: okay


	9. i'm not afraid (i'm terrified)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 09: FORMAL WEAR**
>
>> “We’re teammates.” Sakusa repeats, this time harsher.
>> 
>> The women only giggles, rolls their eyes. Is this funny? Is Atsumu’s situation funny? Is he just a trophy for these goddamn people? Does his feelings _matter_?
>> 
>> Maybe not.
> 
> **+updated tags!**  
>  also if i forgot to tag something please let me know. i sometimes don't know how to tag what's going on in my fics 🥺 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SCREAMING IM SORRY IM LATE BUT, not much porn this chapter. just feelings. sorry!!!!  
>  **note:** i mayhaps watched crazy rich asians once and my brain was like, 'kay lets do that so pls dont take anything seriously! thankchuuuu

Contrary to what Atsumu has wanted to do when he wakes up beside Sakusa the next morning, that of leaving without a peep at all because right now _he’s a coward_ , Atsumu actually ends up showering and eating the breakfast that Sakusa has prepared for them.

It feels disgustingly domestic.

And contrary to what he’s thought might happen if he ever finds himself alone with Sakusa after last night’s disaster, that of talking awkwardly and forcing a fake smile, they end up not saying anything except for the one—maximum two—worded questions and answers regarding breakfast.

Like,

“Rice?” Sakusa asks.

“Yeah.” Atsumu answers.

“More soup?”

“No, thanks.”

And after, Atsumu says his _thanks_ for being allowed to sleep over and Sakusa smiles at him, genuine and soft and with that _look_ in his eyes.

The _whipped Omi_ look.

Now that Sakusa has confessed to him, dubbing that _look_ with that _name_ isn’t as out of place as Atsumu first thought.

Huh.

Atsumu leaves after offering his own smile, heart in his throat, and mind still _thinking_.

He hasn’t stopped thinking ever since Sakusa said _I like you_. He doesn’t think his brain would ever _stop_ until he admits to himself that yes, it is real and maybe he feels the same.

Atsumu makes his way home quick, wanting to be alone in the safest place he knows.

Atsumu calls Osamu when he gets home because— well, because he needs a second opinion. An opinion that isn’t biased and driven by what his heart wants. He needs someone to drill into his brain that _maybe_ , he can want but he cannot always have.

“Yer an idiot, ya know that?” Osamu says from the phone’s speaker, his figure on the screen bustling around in his kitchen.

“Hey!” Atsumu pouts as he rummages around his closet, looking for that one three piece suit he owns, hoping that it’s not wrinkled. “My grades were better than yers.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Osamu says followed by the faucet turning on and off. “Can’t believe Sakusa fell for ya. What kind of blackmail do ya have on him?”

Atsumu glares at the phone screen before going back to looking for something _formal_ to wear. _Ugh_.

“I take offence in that,” he huffs, does a dance when he finally finds the bag containing the three piece suit and throws it on the bed. He continues, “We were jus’ fuckin’, yanno? How was I s’posed to know?”

“But ya like him,” Osamu says, his face now close to the screen. It’s almost unnerving, how his twin _knows_ him this good but they’re twins, they know things about each other without even themselves knowing it.

Atsumu sighs and takes the phone, whispers, “Maybe.”

“Ya talk about him like he’s already yer boyfriend. What the hell are ya hesitatin’ for?”

Osamu is blunt and that’s what’s good about him. He doesn’t beat around the bush, he says what he wants to say, does what he wants to do, no matter what others might think. Of course, there are times when he’s hesitant to tell Atsumu things, like giving up volleyball and starting his own business but— but he still _does_ it anyways. Always so brave.

Atsumu is opposite. Atsumu beats around the bush, words confusing, almost a puzzle. He doesn’t do things without _overthinking_ it; like is it worth it to continue volleyball when Osamu is not going to? Or will Black Jackals have a need for him despite him being once dubbed as the best high school setter in the country? And Atsumu might me obnoxious and loud and flirty and _too much_ but he’s not stupid, he can be quiet when needed, he’s observant, he _works hard_ but—

Is that enough? He’s not as brave as Osamu or Sakusa or Hinata. He overthinks everything in his life because he _has_ to, to succeed, to be better.

But is he any better?

There are so many people out there better than Atsumu. Like Oikawa Tooru, once the setter that Ushijima really wanted on his team. Ushijima _never_ invited Atsumu to join his team. Didn’t that mean he’s not good enough? There were also times when people preferred Osamu above him because he’s just _too much_ ; why is he rude, why does he cry often, why is he so loud, why can’t Osamu play with us without him?

Atsumu thinks he’s just an ant dropped in this big world, under this vast sky, in this never-ending universe. He’s nothing much but apparently _too much_.

But he’s Atsumu. Isn’t he enough?

Does Sakusa think he’s enough? Does he know Atsumu is _too much_?

Maybe not. And that’s why he can say things like _i like you_ and _i want to be with you_. Sakusa hasn’t seen his _too much_ yet. And when he does, he’ll leave because that’s what everyone did. In the first place, didn’t Sakusa hate Atsumu because he’s annoying? Arrogant? Loud? Who’s to say his resentment towards Atsumu won’t come back? Isn’t Sakusa just clouded by sex? Because Atsumu is _easy_ and lets him do anything to him.

Isn’t that it?

“‘tsumu!”

Atsumu blinks, looks at his twin on the phone screen, realises he’s zoned out for a bit, then smiles assuringly, “Yeah, ‘m here.”

“So?” Osamu cocks a brow, now eating _onigiri_. “What’s goin’ on today?”

“Huh?”

Osamu sighs, almost exasperated, “Ya were doing shit in yer closet.”

“Oh,” Atsumu breathes out then grins at his brother, erasing all negative thoughts from his mind. “There’s some fancy sport gala going on this evening. Meian-san together with Bokkun and Omi-kun were s’posed to go but Bokkun had an emergency so they called me last minute.”

“Ah,” Osamu nods, understanding. “Is it the sponsors again?”

Atsumu scrunches his nose, then shrugs, “Guess so. Just a bunch of rich people trynna cop a feel. Nothing bad.”

Osamu copies his expression, nose scrunching, expression sour, “I swear these old couples jus’ wanna have threesomes or somethin’ with ya.”

“Ew,” Atsumu gags but can’t refute. After all, one couple _did_ ask him to have a threesome with them. Which would have been a compliment if they weren’t leering at him like he’s just some piece of meat they can do whatever with just because they _sponsor_ his club. Thankfully, when that happened, Meian-san was there to whisk him away and ban him from ever going to fancy galas.

Unfortunately for him, today he couldn’t say no. He’s the only one without a plan and so he’s roped to going to this stuffy gala full of rich snob people.

“‘m tellin’ ya, one of these days someone’s gonna offer ya to be yer sugar daddy,” Osamu jokes and Atsumu almost chokes because— well, _Omi_ does that already. Not that Osamu knows. Osamu can _never_ know. He’ll laugh at Atsumu and call him _sugar baby_ until they grow old and Atsumu absolutely doesn’t want that to happen. _Yikes_.

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu brushes him off, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, I hafta go soon. Thanks for talkin’ to me.”

Osamu’s eyes goes soft and his smile is genuine, sweet. “No problem, ‘tsumu. Call me anytime, yeah? I’m yer other half after all.”

Atsumu nods, smiles back because he misses his twin but they’re adults now, living separately with their own adult lives. He’s okay.

“Yeah, thanks.” Atsumu whispers, “Miss ya, love ya.”

“Yeah, I love me too.” Osamu laughs and Atsumu pouts. “Bye, ‘tsumu. Call me tomorrow, alright?”

“Hmm, I will.” Atsumu nods and ends the call, feeling a little bit better about himself and the situation he’s in.

He can face Sakusa today. They don’t have to talk to each other or be civil or force themselves to be polite. Sakusa told him he can _take his time_ and Atsumu will.

Until there is no time left.

* * *

Atsumu is right.

They don’t exchange any words except for _hi_ when they arrive at the venue. Though for some reason, that makes Atsumu just a tad bit sad. But it’s his fault isn’t it? If only he isn’t much of a coward, they’d be smiling and conversing by now.

No matter, what’s done is done and regrets shouldn’t be dwelled over. They can only be forgotten. Who needs memories anyways.

When they arrive they are whisked to greet new sponsors; faking smiles, clinking champagne glasses, pretending he knows what they’re talking about, trying to not stare too much at Sakusa.

Because Sakusa looks too handsome in his own two piece suit that must have cost more than Atsumu’s one year rent fee. He’s wearing all black; inner shirt black, coat with a wide belt in the middle black, pants black, shoes black— and he looks _so so gorgeous_. Atsumu wants to stare at him until he’s seared the image of Sakusa’s handsome figure in that fucking suit. Plus he’s opted to go without his mask, his face unobstructed by any fabric covering. He looks like a greek god or maybe a demon that Atsumu wants to fuck or to ruin him. Maybe both.

In contrary, Atsumu is wearing a dull grey suit that fits his figure, shows all his best assets and more. He’s wearing black leather shoes that’s as shiny as the floor they’re standing on. He looks pristine and proper; he looks _gorgeous_ and he knows it but— But compared to Sakusa, he might look _dull_. Sakusa just oozes that kind of charm; intimidating, dark, that makes you want to get close to him.

Atsumu kind of loathes him for that. How’s a guy supposed to resist him? Even worse, how’s these old hags surrounding them supposed to resist him?

Unbelievable.

Atsumu gulps his glass of champagne in one go, just to wash away the thoughts swirling to the forefront of his mind. This is no time to think about how hot Sakusa is and how badly Atsumu wants to fuck him.

“Rough night?” A sweet voice pipes to his right.

Atsumu turns to her and sees a gorgeous woman, perhaps mid-thirties, dressed in a dark blue gown that shows her curves and her distracting cleavage. Her make-up is not heavy, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty and she’s _beautiful_. If Atsumu were her age, he would have fallen for her coy smile and her seductive gaze and the sweet scent wafting from her.

But Atsumu is only twenty five and maybe— _just maybe_ likes the man he’s been fucking with for a few months now.

So he smiles at her, chuckles a little, “The night is still early. Can’t be that rough yet.”

The woman smiles, pretty, “True. Care for another drink?” She offers him another glass full of champagne and Atsumu takes it, clinks glasses with her and sips a bit, not wanting to get drunk yet. Or at all.

“Yer beautiful,” Atsumu compliments because it’s true. Atsumu would have been blind _and_ stupid to not compliment someone as gorgeous as her.

“Oh?” She cocks a perfectly shaped brow. Atsumu tilts his head. “I had the impression you didn’t like talking to… people like us.”

Atsumu snorts then realises it’s unprofessional, clears his throat, asks, “How so?”

“Heard from the grapevine—“ which means their gossip circle. What a load of bull. “—that you don’t like being acquainted with the rich. Although some did say they’ve seen you in and out of Sakusa’s youngest son’s apartment.”

What.

“Excuse me?” Atsumu asks, wide-eyed.

What’s going on?

“That kid,” She nods her head towards Sakusa’s direction. He sees him with another woman, smiling, polite and her hand rubbing his arm. Atsumu feels _something_ deep within him. A stranger—is it?—being chummy with Sakusa? Wow. Atsumu is not even allowed to be that chummy _publicly_. Wow.

“He’s one of us,” The woman beside him says, oblivious to what Atsumu’s feeling. “So you’re his playtoy? No wonder you refused that couple.”

Atsumu furrows his brows, lips pursed into a tight line as he looks at her, suspicious. How does she know that? It’s been a while and no one talks about it because it’s _useless_ gossip. But apparently, it’s not to the rich. How boring must these people’s lives be?

“I’m not,” Atsumu says, a whisper. “We’re teammates. Friends.”

“Really?” She grins at him, shark-like and suddenly she’s not as pretty anymore. Appearance _is_ deceiving. Atsumu shouldn’t have been so stupid. “Shall we ask him?”

Atsumu shrugs, nods, “Knock yer self out, lady.”

She smiles then leads him to where Sakusa and his— lady friend is cozying up to each other. Atsumu still can’t get over that Sakusa is letting a stranger touch him like that. Even though it’s innocent, it’s— it’s _flirty._

 _It’s annoying_.

“Sakusa-kun, Momoka-san,” The lady leading him greets, sweet smile on his face.

“Hello,” Atsumu bows, polite. He can’t let his emotions get the best of him here.

“Ah, Saito-san, Miya,” Sakusa greets, bowing as well. He looks so— He looks like he _belongs_. Atsumu gulps, refuses to be cowed by the difference in status.

“Saito-san,” Sakusa’s lady friend looks at Atsumu, gives him a once over and frowns. “Who is this?”

Why isn’t she asking me? Is this some type of bullying? Doesn’t she know Atsumu can speak for himself?

Atsumu’s frown turns even deeper. This is why he hates fancy galas. If there’s something that Atsumu has learned from _twitter_ , it’s _to eat the rich_ because they’re a menace. What’s happening right now just proves that _yes, the rich must be eaten_.

“Miya Atsumu, my teammate.” Sakusa answers, voice a little tight at the edges. “He’s one of the best setter in the country.”

“Really,” _Momoka-san_ says, unimpressed.

“You know Sakusa-kun, Miya-kun here told me something,” _Saito-san_ starts and Atsumu wants to shut her up, shove an apple in her mouth or _something_ because he knows only _bullshit_ will come out of her mouth.

“Oh?” Sakusa looks at Atsumu and Atsumu stares back at him, acting nonchalant, like nothing is _wrong_ when everything is. “What did he say, Saito-san?”

Saito-san smiles, sharp, “That you’re _friends_. Is that true?”

Sakusa blinks, an emotion passing through his eyes before he nods quickly, “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“And?” Saito-san urges and Sakusa furrows his brows, confused. “Ah, Sakusa-kun! Don’t be shy to tell us. _Everyone_ knows already. We’re a tight knit community here, aren’t we?”

Her voice is too cheerful, too innocent, too _annoying_. Atsumu gulps, watching as Sakusa tries to understand what she’s saying. Atsumu hopes he doesn’t.There is no point in gossiping in a supposed to be _professional_ party.

“Do you mean—“ Momoka-san stares intently at Atsumu, like she’s examining him right down to his very soul. Then she gasps, over-dramatic. “Oh, so you’re _that_ guy.”

“What guy?” Sakusa asks, clueless. Atsumu closes his eyes, knows that it’s coming.

“You know, your _playtoy_. Your family has been sponsoring Black Jackals for so long even though they didn’t have to. But, well, _no wonder why_.”

It’s surreal. They’re talking about Atsumu like’s he’s not there, like he doesn’t exist. It feels like being invisible. Like all the time he’s being _too much_ and everyone is ignoring him because they couldn’t handle how he is.

He wants to fucking cry.

“He’s not—“ Sakusa stutters, eyes on Atsumu never leaving. “He’s a teammate. Nothing else.”

“Oh, but hasn’t he been to your place too often than necessary?” Saito-san says, like their gossiping is not harmful. “And look at that mark, right there—“ She points under Atsumu’s ear where his hair usually covers but today it’s slicked back and so the skin _shows_.

Oh.

“We’re teammates.” Sakusa repeats, this time harsher.

The women only giggles, rolls their eyes. Is this funny? Is Atsumu’s situation funny? Is he just a trophy for these goddamn people? Does his feelings _matter_?

Maybe not.

It _hurts_ hearing Sakusa say that, like they’re absolutely nothing. Atsumu _knows_ Sakusa is saying those things because there could be a scandal, a goddamn field fest for the media if they ever find out about their situations. That would be a _disaster_. But maybe not for Sakusa, his family would probably pay someone to clean up his name. But Atsumu— who’s gonna defend him and clear his name up and tell everyone that _no_ , he’s not just some trophy toy selling his body so he can stay on the team.

 _What the fuck_.

Atsumu is shaking. Trembling on his feet. He’s like a storm waiting to burst, a ticking time bomb that if triggered would blow out like a goddamn volcano.

Sakusa notices this and grabs Atsumu’s arm, excuses themselves quickly and brings him to the fancy bathroom that’s too clean and shiny and smells like chlorine and jasmine at the same time.

“Hey,” Sakusa grabs his face with both hands after shoving both of them inside a cubicle. “Breathe.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath, hands clutching Sakusa’s wrists, the warmth the other is emanating grounding him.

“I’m sorry,” Sakusa says, rubbing soothing circles on Atsumu’s cheeks. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. And experience that. I’m sorry.”

Atsumu lets out a laugh, sudden and sharp and cutting edges.

“Yeah,” Atsumu breathes out. “You should be.” He looks at Sakusa straight in the eyes. “So I’m your trophy cockslut, huh? Do your rich friends talk about me? Tells you how lucky you are to _fuck_ such an easy _whore_?” Atsumu shuts his eyes, whippers, “Omi, is that why you like me? Because I’m easy?”

Sakusa presses his forehead against Atsumu’s own, lips a hair breadth away from Atsumu’s own lips. “No,” he says, a pained whisper. “I like you, Atsumu.” Again, “I like you so much.”

“I don’t think so,” Atsumu says, voice flat, and Sakusa freezes.

Atsumu opens his eyes, pulls Sakusa closer. “I think you like the thought of me. I think you like that you can call me whenever and wherever and I’ll _be there!_ ” Atsumu cups Sakusa’s cheeks then, grins, almost mean, “I think you just like fucking me.” He pulls Sakusa closer, “So let’s fuck. Let’s fuck, Omi-kun. Right here. You want to right?”

Sakusa lets out a shuddering breath, still holding Atsumu close tightly. He’s silent for so long, Atsumu almost says _fuck it, i’m done_ but then he says, voice hard, “Is that what you want?”

Atsumu presses a hard kiss on his lips, says when he pulls back, “Yeah, sure. After all, I’m only good for a fuck.”

Sakusa shoves him against the wall of the cubicle before lips covers his own, tongue immediately entering his mouth. Atsumu lets out a moan, ruts against Sakusa’s thigh that’s between his legs, wanting more friction on his slowly hardening dick. He crumples Sakusa’s expensive suit on his hands, delighting in every crease that he creates on it. He can’t wait to come on it and ruin it forever.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa unbuckles his belt, shoves his hands down Atsumu’s boxers and fists his cock harshly, pumping fast. “Why are you so—“ Sakusa buries his face on Atsumu’s neck, teeth nipping on the skin. Atsumu fucks up into Sakusa’s hand, moaning loudly. “—frustrating.” Sakusa finishes, twisting his wrist and pressing on the slit of Atsumu’s cockhead.

“Omi,” Atsumu pulls him closer, turns his head and captures Sakusa’s lips on his. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa strokes his cock faster and Atsumu cries, nails digging on the fabric he’s clutching on. “Come, Atsumu. Come on.”

It should be impossible, to come this fast but Atsumu has done a lot of impossible things with Sakusa already. Why not this too, right?

Atsumu buckles his hips, buries his face on Sakusa’s chest before coming hard on Sakusa’s hands, suit, and pants. He pants heavily, mind trying to catch up on what just happened.

Then his mind clears up and Atsumu laughs, almost hysterical,

“You didn’t even fuck me.” He giggles, “Ah, OmiOmi, yer a riot.” Then coldly, “What a coward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chap will be the continuation of this!!!! xoxo  
>  **edit** : here's sakusa's [alphet](https://www.dolcegabbana.com/en/men/clothing/suits/wool-sicilia-fit-suit-with-belt-black-GKCSMTFU21BN0000.html?cgid=men-apparel-suits#page=1&start=1) from the gala uwu


	10. when it hurts so good (do you break it?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 10: HATE/ROUGH SEX**
>
>> “Fuck ya, Omi,” Atsumu whispers, breathing heavily, face pressed on Sakusa’s shoulder.
>> 
>> “Back at you, Miya,” Sakusa says, thrusts his clothed dick against Atsumu’s own, eliciting moans from both of them.
>> 
>> Miya? Haha. He’s not Atsumu or ‘tsumu anymore. Just Miya.
> 
> **+updated tags once again!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same day continuation ahaha,,,,,,,,,,

Atsumu doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore and why he’s doing it. All he knows is that he’s hurt and acting stupid and feeling like the biggest mess in the world. Will he be able to survive from this? His brain says _yes_ because he’s not that much of a sentimental person but his heart says _no_ because there are just things that a person won’t be able to recover from easily. Like heartbreak.

After what happened in the bathroom, Sakusa and him go back to the gala. Atsumu is a little smug about the stains on Sakusa’s outfit but also a little bit embarrassed because they’d _know_.

Another thought comes to him: _they’d know_ now for certain that Sakusa and him are fucking and well, that’s too much for Atsumu to take in right now.

Being fragile and emotional is annoying. But that’s what makes him— what makes him _human_. He’s not some impenetrable person with high walls that other people cannot break through. In contrary, Atsumu doesn’t have any walls. He wears his heart on his sleeve more often than not. But he’s got thorns that protects him and hurts him at the same time; he’s got a double edged sword living within him that stabs others with the price of hurting him.

Atsumu pities himself sometimes. What’s the point of protecting yourself if you’re gonna hurt yourself anyways? His heart doesn’t make any sense.

And maybe that’s why it’s hard to believe when Sakusa says _i like you_. Atsumu is a mess and pitiful, why would Sakusa like _him_ of all people?

“Let’s go,” Sakusa tugs on his wrist, tight, never letting go.

Atsumu frowns, doesn’t even try to get away anymore after trying to a few times earlier.

“Where are we goin’?” Atsumu doesn’t move, planting him feet to the ground. He does not want to make any unnecessary scene in front of Meian-san but he also doesn’t want to be alone with Sakusa right now.

It’s too painful.

“We’re going home,” Sakusa replies, tugs on Atsumu’s wrist again, harsh but gentle. Contrasting.

Atsumu sighs, relenting. He smiles at their captain, bows respectfully. “Meian-san, thank ya for this evening. I apologise we have to leave early.”

Meian smiles at them, confused but still understanding. “No problem, Miya. We’re almost done here anyways. Go home and take a rest. I’ll see you on Monday at practice.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Sakusa bows before dragging Atsumu to the exit, steps calm, collected. His hands though are tight on Atsumu’s wrist, and cold and when Atsumu focuses enough, he feels it trembling on his skin.

He looks at Sakusa’s back, a little apologetic and a little vindictive. Before they reach the exit door, he looks around, tries to find the _women_ that messed with his head, and sees them nowhere. He’s a little disappointed, he wants to give them the finger— _double—_ just so they could get it into their stupid heads that he’s not one to back down. Unfortunately or fortunately for his and Black Jackals’ reputation, they’re gone. Tsk.

Atsumu is met with the cold breeze when they step outside, waiting for the valet to flag them a taxi. He breathes the fresh air, eyes falling shut for a second, letting his body let loose, even if just for a second.

“Get in, Miya,” Sakusa commands, holding the door to the taxi, the ever present frown on his lips and furrow of his brows marring his handsome face.

Atsumu looks at him for a while, contemplating if he should run away to the other direction or—

“Don’t run,” Sakusa says, tone hard.

Rolling his eyes, Atsumu gets in the taxi with a loud huff, Sakusa following after. He doesn’t pay attention to where they are going because he _knows_ where they are heading. To Sakusa’s place.

Ha.

He wonders what kind of gossip those fucking rich snobs are going to whisper about him tomorrow. Maybe that it’s confirmed he’s only Sakusa’ss _boytoy_ or that he’s fucking _weak_ or maybe some other fabricated lie?

“Hey,” Atsumu whispers, looking out of the window, watching the scenery pass by. “Are all rich people like _that_?”

Sakusa doesn’t say anything for a second, inhales, exhales, then says, “No. Maybe. I don’t know, Miya.”

Atsumu snorts, tapping a finger against his thigh, “Ya don’t know? Aren’t ya one of them? Sees us other people who are under ya like some… some… amusement.” It’s frustrating. So. Fucking. Frustrating. “God, I’ve never thought that I’d experience some dramatic shit like that but here we fucking are. Ya all are a bunch of assholes.”

Sakusa doesn’t say anything, just listens. Atsumu can’t see him but when the taxi passes by a street filled with lights, Atsumu can see Sakusa’s reflection on the window glass. He’s sitting stiff, back straight, hands on his lap, and like Atsumu, he’s looking out the window.

“Jus’ admit I’m right, Omi.” Atsumu continues, just so he can piss Sakusa more or at least get an obvious _reaction_ from his stoic figure.

Sakusa chooses to stay quiet and Atsumu chooses to continue ruining what might have been one of the best non-relationship relationship he’s ever had.

“Yanno, now that I think about it, when ya started buying me stuff, I jus’ thought you were being nice but after today, was it payment, maybe? Like ya said I don’t need a sugar daddy but still ya buy me shit and pay for things.” Atsumu says, like a loud self-monologue but he’s aiming for Sakusa to _hurt_ , just— just a bit. Like how he’s feeling.

“I thought hey, maybe Omi likes me but that couldn’t be it. And now I found out why. Hey, Omi, do ya pity me? Did it make ya happy throwing yer money on my face? Did ya enjoy choosing me as charity case?”

“Miya,” Sakusa says, finally facing Atsumu.

Atsumu turns to him, grin condescending, eyes cold.

“We’re here,” Sakusa adds and opens the door to the taxi, holds it open for Atsumu.

Atsumu clicks his tongue, a little annoyed. Why isn’t Sakusa reacting? Were everything that he said true? Did Atsumu go too far and now Sakusa is giving him the cold shoulder? Did Atsumu hurt his own self again by opening his mouth and revealing all his fucking insecurities?

“Right,” he goes out of the taxi and follows Sakusa to his apartment quietly, fearing that if he opens his mouth another tirade of what he’s feared were the answers to all his questions would come out.

The thought of everything being true— _hurts_. But Atsumu is hurting already, what’s more right? It feels like he can pile up all the hurt he’s felt from tonight and add more to it. Like a fucking treat. _Ha_.

Certainly, what Atsumu expect to happen when they enter Sakusa’s apartment is of them fighting, maybe a little shouting, a bit of crying from him then a dramatic slam of the door after he goes out.

He doesn’t expect for Sakusa to pin him to the wall, hike his legs up and around his waist, all the while kissing Atsumu hard, sucking the breath out of him, like he’s a man starved.

Atsumu lets out a pained groan when he hits the wall but forgets everything else when Sakusa devours his mouth, hands clutching Atsumu’s ass and crushing him with his weight, disabling Atsumu from escaping or even _moving_.

If Atsumu was a stronger man, he would’ve punched Sakusa on the face and spat on his expensive come stained suit but Atsumu is _weak_ ; for the hands that holds him, for the lips that’s kissing him, for the warmth that’s enveloping him. _He’s so weak_. And so he kisses back, tongue tangling with Sakusa’s own, spit trailing down their chins as they fight for dominance. Sakusa sucks his tongue and Atsumu moans, clutching Sakusa’s curly hair harshly. When Sakusa bites his lower lip hard, Atsumu bucks his hips, wanting friction against his slowly hardening cock.

Atsumu’s heart is pounding in his ears, the blood rushing through his veins loud and clear. He hates his situation but he doesn’t want to stop. This might be the last time they can be like this together and Atsumu— Atsumu wants to _stay_ , even if just for an hour or two. He’s pathetic.

“Fuck ya, Omi,” Atsumu whispers, breathing heavily, face pressed on Sakusa’s shoulder.

“Back at you, Miya,” Sakusa says, thrusts his clothed dick against Atsumu’s own, eliciting moans from both of them.

_Miya? Haha_. He’s not Atsumu or ‘tsumu anymore. Just Miya.

God, Atsumu wants to cry.

“I hate you,” Atsumu whispers even when he ruts against Sakusa’s thigh, the provided friction making him even more aroused.

Sakusa replies with nothing, only drops Atsumu’s body on the floor, leaving Atsumu in a pained, ungraceful heap. Atsumu lets out a harsh laugh at the other’s action, feeling like he’s suffocating even though he’s breathing just evenly.

His heart feels _tight_.

He looks up at Sakusa as he clutches his chest, his suit creased and ruined and who the fuck cares about his or Sakusa’s suits anymore, anyways? Atsumu tugs his tie off, throws his jacket to the side, unbuttons his shirt, all the while looking at Sakusa, daring the other to do _something_.

Sakusa continues watching him, eyes dark, filled with lust. Atsumu is on eye-level with his crotch and he eyes Sakusa’s cock, hard inside his pants.

He grins, “Ah, Omi, yer such a horny guy. How can ya be so hard already, huh.” He finishes his words with a nuzzle to Sakusa’s clothed cock.

A hand lands on his hair, tugging painfully on it. Atsumu looks up, cocks a brow at Sakusa. Cheek pressed on Sakusa’s hip, he says, “Ya want yer dick in my mouth, Omi? Want to choke me with yer cock?”

Sakusa tugs on his hair again, breathes in, out, “Miya.” Atsumu’s mind can’t get over it, the _miyamiyamiya_ instead of _tsumuatsumu_. Every time Sakusa calls him that, he wants to hurl, wants to vomit every inch of what he’s feeling; the hurt, the expectation, the denial. _Everything_.

“Do you hate me?” Sakusa asks, tilting Atsumu’s head.

“Ya heard me, Omi,” Atsumu shrugs, like he’s feeling nothing. “Now can we fuck? I wanna get back home before twelve.”

Sakusa frowns, his lips setting into a snarl. “You are so—“

“I know,” Atsumu snorts. _Too much_ , he knows _._ “Now gimme yer dick.”

“Beg for it,” Sakusa says, voice harsh. He tilts Atsumu’s head as far as he can, eliciting a pained moan from Atsumu.

Atsumu stops thinking. Doesn’t want to _feel_ any other emotions than _lust_. He stomps at the feelings swirling inside him and allows his arousal to overtake. There is no use overthinking.

“ _Please, Omi_ ,” he begs, eyes teary. “Gimme yer cock.”

“Oh, so _now_ you listen to me?” Sakusa huffs then lets Atsumu go, commands, “Get naked.”

Atsumu murmurs, “Here?” because they’re still in the _genkan_ but he does what Sakusa tells him to anyways. He lets his shirt and pants along with his boxers fall to the ground, leaving him naked, shivering from the slight cold permeating the apartment.

“So you do listen,” Sakusa says, mocking. “I thought you’re just a brat who doesn’t listen at all.” He continues to say, belt and pants falling to the ground before being kicked to the side. His boxers follows, freeing his hard cock from its constraints.

When Atsumu finally gets to see it, he licks his lips while nodding his head agreeing with whatever Sakusa is saying.

“You’re a cockslut, aren’t you?” Sakusa murmurs, pulls Atsumu close before hoisting him up again, now their bare cocks brushing against each other.

“Y-Yeah,” Atsumu stutters, tightens his legs around Sakusa’s hips. He can’t even think of how the fuck Sakusa is strong enough to hold him against the wall when his cock is so hard and Sakusa’s cock is _just there, can’t he put that in me already_.

“And you,” Sakusa starts, shoves three fingers inside Atsumu’s mouth, his lips creating more bruises on Atsumu’s neck and where that hickey under his ear is. Atsumu jerks, chokes against the fingers in his mouth before he starts sucking on them, drool slipping down the corners of his mouth, so filthy.

“You are so—“ Sakusa continues, like he’s gathering his thoughts then stopping because he doesn’t know how to phrase what he wants to say. Atsumu listens half-heartedly, slobbering on Sakusa’s fingers, sucking on the long digits like they’re Sakusa’s cock. “So lewd. Desperate for me to fuck you. Can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”

Atsumu nods, holds Sakusa’s wrist as he continues to suck on his fingers while their cocks slide against each other, so hard and wet with pre-come. Atsumu meets Sakusa’s short thrusts, enough that they’re simulated but not enough for them to come.

Who is he kidding? It’s really not enough.

He pulls Sakusa’s fingers out of his mouth, nips on their tips as he takes in deep breaths, chin soaked with spit, his face flushed red.

“Fuck me. Come on,” He moans, pulling Sakusa closer, lips pressed on the other’s ear. “Fuck me hard, Omi. Like the cockslut that I am.”

Sakusa holds him tighter and suddenly there’s a finger brushing his hole, dipping just a little, not entering.

“W-Wait,” Atsumu clutches Sakusa’s biceps, still covered with his fucking suit. “L-Lube.”

“Didn’t you wet my fingers good enough, Miya?” Sakusa mouths at his chest, lips surrounding a nipple. He inserts a spit covered finger inside Atsumu, making Atsumu’s body tense before relaxing. Spit is not a good alternative for lube, Atsumu knows, even Sakusa knows but here they are, no lube in sight, only saliva on hand.

For some reason, that makes Atsumu more aroused, the thought of Sakusa just— just _not_ giving a fuck, abandoning everything that he knows, playing with fucking _fire_. It makes Atsumu’s body shiver, his hole tightening around the finger thrusting inside him.

“More,” He moans, trying to move his hips on the finger inside him. At his plead, Sakusa hums around his nipple, teeth nipping on the hard bud before simultaneously biting hard on the skin and inserting another finger inside Atsumu. It’s a tight fit, Atsumu can feel that prick of pain in his ass but it’s also _good_. Sakusa has never fucked him like this, has never been this filthy with him. It makes him want to _ruin_.

The two fingers inside him pistons fast, Sakusa not even waiting for Atsumu to get used to it. Atsumu lets out a series of moans, punched from the deepest of his core, his mouth agape as he holds Sakusa’s head on his chest. Sakusa fucks him with two fingers for a few moments then adding a third one after; scissoring, hooking on Atsumu’s hole, pushing hard to the knuckle, and abusing his prostate until Atsumu is shaking, back slipping on the wall.

“Omi,” Atsumu sobs, hips jerking to meet Sakusa’s harsh thrusts. “Want yer cock.”

Sakusa sucks his nipple hard, litters his chest with more hickeys before retrieving his fingers from his abused hole. He pulls back a little, spits on his hand generously and pumps his hard cock before lining it with Atsumu’s twitching hole. He slides in in one go, rough and hard and punching a loud cry from Atsumu who can only take it and hold on to Sakusa for dear fucking life.

The cock inside him doesn’t pause, immediately thrusting in deep, long strokes, making that he _feels_ it. And Atsumu does feel it. The slide is a little bit dry and it’s a whole lot painful than usual but he doesn’t complain because he wants his ass to remember the shape of Sakusa’s cock until next week, until all he can think and dream about is Sakusa pounding into him with reckless abandon. His mouth is on Atsumu’s cheeks, tongue licking the tears sliding down his skin. Atsumu blinks, eyes bleary, doesn’t even realise he’s crying. He presses a bruising kiss on Sakusa’s lips, nails digging on the nape of his neck as he moans for _harder, faster_.

Sakusa doesn’t disappoint, fucks Atsumu harder against the wall, clutches his thick thighs tighter, pressing into him again and again until Atsumu is sobbing against Sakusa’s lips. His hips twitches when Sakusa clutches his asscheeks, nails digging on the skin, spreading his ass as pumps his cock even deeper inside Atsumu, balls deep.

Atsumu doesn’t know if he’s feeling pain or pleasure or both because Sakusa’s dick is trying to fucking go even deeper like he’s not deep enough that Atsumu can feel him hitting his prostate dead on. Sakusa’s cock is fucking Atsumu silly, his mouth opened, drool on his chin and his eyes rolling back to the back of his head, his stomach clenching as he takes Sakusa’s cock again and again, never-ending.

“Wanna come,” Atsumu hiccups, crying, head thrown against the wall. “Omi, wanna come,” he sobs, his cock trapped between the both of them, bobbing against his stomach, hard and wet. He doesn’t think he’ll last long what with Sakusa fucking him like this; like he’s just a hole for Sakusa to use and to come in.

He keeps on chanting _comingcoming,_ his moans going high pitched, his hold on Sakusa going tighter and painful. Sakusa doesn’t relent, pushes his cock harsher inside Atsumu’s fluttering hole, ignore Atsumu’s pleads of wanting to come. His strokes go from fast and hard to slow and deep, alternating between those two for a long time and making Atsumu go crazy. He’s being fucked so silly he can’t think anymore, all he knows is that he wants to come and he wants Sakusa’s dick and he _wants_.

“Come on, ‘tsumu,” Sakusa groans on Atsumu’s collarbone, chewing on the skin. “Beg me. You want to come? Beg.”

Atsumu cries, body shaking as he nods, like some doll that could only follow its owner’s commands.

“ _OmiOmi, please— come— wanna— I— please,”_ He says, words not even making any sense.

Sakusa lets out a breathy laugh on his skin before moaning loudly, hold on Atsumu tightening and his thrusts going erratic.

“Fucking,” Sakusa starts, pushes Atsumu even more against the wall and clutching his thigh even harder as he fists a hand around Atsumu’s cock, pumping fast. “Frustrating. You.”

Atsumu nods, agreeing with anything and everything, moans and groans as loud as can be. When Sakusa pounds his ass even faster and harder while pumping his cock, Atsumu comes with a scream, his body jerking and shaking, Sakusa pausing in his movements as he holds Atsumu against the wall, careful to not drop him as he continues to shake, his cock spurting between them.

“Hey,” Sakusa whispers when Atsumu’s body stops trembling, pumping his cock inside Atsumu once again, slow, steady. “We’re not done yet.”

Atsumu blinks and looks at him, breath hitching when Sakusa grinds his hips, his cock hitting Atsumu’s prostate again and again.

“O-Omi,” Atsumu hiccups, pushes on Sakusa’s chest. “I just— I just came. I—“

“You like it, no?” Sakusa continues to grind his hips, watches as Atsumu’s lips tremble, as his eyes goes teary and the first tear falls.

“Too much, too much,” Atsumu shakes his head, pulls Sakusa close by his neck, cries on his shoulders. “Please, Omi.”

Sakusa groans, Atsumu’s hole tightening around him. “Okay.” He presses a kiss on Atsumu’s wet cheeks. “But we’re not done yet.”

Atsumu nods. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me rn: can these bitches just get together damn,,, lmao


	11. what we have here is irreplaceable (so don't go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 11: DACRYPHILIA** (aroused by sobbing/tears)
>
>> A hand rubs the corner of his puffy eye, wiping the wet skin. Atsumu sniffs, doesn’t stop looking at Sakusa, his heart screaming: remember remember and his brain whispering: forget forget.
>> 
>> Falling is a hassle.
>> 
>> “You’re so beautiful,” Sakusa says, just like all those times they’ve been in this position. “So beautiful.”
> 
> **\+ updated tags!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **note:** hi! i dont think i did the kink right or any justice at all r i p but well, im posting it anyways. some emotional stuff ehehe  
> [this song](https://open.spotify.com/track/0ULBIekTG8aXBMSLJ2oYRg?si=fWPiSs7LRSmIXlYsStHnqg) describes this chap.

It feels like they’re in their own world; in this room, on this bed, the darkness shrouding them comfortably. It feels like no one else and nothing else matters right now except for them; the two last people on earth.

The curtains are open, allowing the numerous street light from the outside and from the neighbouring buildings to illuminate the room. The lamp by Sakusa’s bedside table is bright but not blinding, letting him see Sakusa clearly with no difficulty.

Here, right now, Atsumu feels like everything is forgotten and they could just get lost within each other’s arms. The warmth he’s feeling from the inside spreading through his body as he looks at Sakusa, eyes never leaving his figure.

After fucking in the _genkan_ , Sakusa carries him to the bedroom, holding tight, cock momentarily out of Atsumu’s hole which— well, made Atsumu let out a breath of relief. He’s already come _twice_ this evening and he doesn’t think he can anymore. Sakusa, on the other hand, hasn’t found his release yet and Atsumu is nothing if not a giver. At least, he wants Sakusa to come before everything falls and breaks and—

“Hey,” Sakusa crawls on top of him, now as naked as Atsumu. “You okay?”

Atsumu stares at him, wills himself to not _hope_ because hoping leads to disappointment. He’s over hoping.

“Never been better, Omi,” Atsumu replies, spreads his legs and welcomes Sakusa in between them again.

Sakusa settles between his legs, sticking close with his cock still hard, bobbing as he moves over Atsumu’s body. He then plants his hands beside Atsumu’s head, looks down at him, his eyes suddenly soft that it makes Atsumu wants to insult him just so he could wipe that look from his face. He _hates_ that look. He doesn’t want it in front of his face.

And in the back of his mind, he wants to keep that, knows he’s so far gone; maybe heartbreak is a little worth it, if he could just remember how Sakusa looks at him in these moments, in the dark, where they lay out all that they are, all for the taking.

A hand rubs the corner of his puffy eye, wiping the wet skin. Atsumu sniffs, doesn’t stop looking at Sakusa, his heart screaming: _remember remember_ and his brain whispering: _forget forget_.

Falling is a hassle.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sakusa says, just like all those times they’ve been in this position. “So beautiful.”

Atsumu can feel himself begin to cave in, like the last leaf on autumn, still hanging on. He doesn’t say anything, allows Sakusa to do whatever he wants because _this is the last_.

Sadly, unlike what Atsumu hoped before, he doesn’t think he’ll get out of this unscathed. No matter what he does, he’s already too deep to get out unharmed.

Hasn’t he been harmed already?

“Atsumu,” Sakusa presses a kiss to his forehead, slow, wet, lips trembling. Then another kiss to both of Atsumu’s eyelids, and his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his lips, his chin, and lastly, his lips. His kisses are soft unlike just a few minutes ago, not forceful but careful. “Atsumu, I’m sorry.”

Atsumu blinks and realises it’s not _Miya_ anymore but back to _Atsumu_. He doesn’t know what to do about that. He likes the unreserved Sakusa better, the way he fucks Atsumu hard and rough and without acting like— _like this_. Because that Sakusa at least doesn’t make Atsumu’s heart stutter, _hesitate_. That Sakusa makes him forget that he _wants_ so badly but he _can’t_.

“Okay,” Atsumu says, a quiet whisper.

He doesn’t want to stay in their own little world anymore. If they continue, Atsumu knows he’ll say something that would ruin him. He’s not that brave. So he trails his hand down and grabs Sakusa’s cock, pumps it a little and lines it with his hole once again. Sakusa doesn’t resist, entering slowly and this time, the slide is easier, his hole as well as Sakusa’s condom covered cock wet with copious amount of lube.

Sakusa slides in slowly, taking his time, his eyes looking at Atsumu intently, never straying away. Atsumu closes his eyes, escapes from the heat of that gaze as Sakusa’s dick settles inside him, balls deep, pulsing and thick. He moans, hands clutching at Sakusa’s wrists, legs tightening around his waist.

“You feel so good,” Sakusa whispers, presses a soft kiss on his lips before he starts moving in long and steady strokes. He pulls his cock out until the head is the only part in and shoves his cock back inside Atsumu hard, punching a loud moan out of Atsumu’s lips.

Atsumu blinks his eyes open as he bites his lip, his hips jerking, still fucking sensitive from having come two times in a small span of time. He’s not overstimulated but he’s sensitive and it makes his dick twitch on his stomach, slowly starting to get hard once again.

Sakusa kisses him again as he continues thrusting slowly and this time, Atsumu kisses back, just lips on lips, Sakusa swallowing his moans from time to time.

Once they pull back from the kiss, Sakusa whispers, “Please listen to me.”

Atsumu furrows his brows then jolts when Sakusa hits his prostate, letting out a groan. Is Sakusa serious? Is he really going to _talk_ seriously with Atsumu while his cock is buried deep inside him?

“Omi, what—what the fuck,” Atsumu breathes out, arching his body as he meets Sakusa’s steady thrusts.

“Just— listen,” Sakusa pauses in his movements, looks at Atsumu with that soft look in his eyes, his lips red and wet and a bead of sweat falls from his chin, landing on Atsumu’s neck.

“Not—“ Atsumu turns his head, looking away and shutting his eyes. “Not right now.”

“No,” Sakusa turns his head back to the front, grip on Atsumu’s chin tight but gentle. “Please.”

Atsumu blinks at the expression on Sakusa’s face. He looks so desperate, his brows furrowed deeply and his eyes, this time, are glassy. Sakusa looks like he’s going to cry and— and Atsumu wants to cry with him. What fucked up shit have they ended up in?

They shouldn’t have started this… this _arrangement_ if they’re going to be hurt at the end.

But they can’t take anything back now. All is done. The only think they can do right now is move on, together or alone.

Gulping loudly, Atsumu nods, fixes his gaze to Sakusa’s own, tries to focus while Sakusa continues to fuck him, pace still slow, lazy.

“Thank you,” Sakusa whispers, moves his hands and intertwines it with Atsumu’s own on the sheets under them. Atsumu squeezes his fingers, feels Sakusa’s answering squeeze, breathes in deep.

“Okay,” Atsumu nods again, pulls Sakusa’s body closer by his legs. “I’ll listen while you fuck me.”

“Thank you,” Sakusa repeats and he sounds like a broken record now, the only difference is the tone of his voice, gradually getting deeper and strained. “I like you,” he confesses and Atsumu wants to snort, mock him but he doesn’t, just stares back at Sakusa’s eyes. “You are so—“ He continues, cock brushing Atsumu’s prostate as he grinds his hips. “—frustrating. You don’t listen. You run away. Why?” Sakusa buries his neck on Atsumu’s shoulders, mouth latching on his skin immediately, like he’s trying to suppress his emotions.

Atsumu’s heart squeezes tightly and he can’t help but hold on to Sakusa’s hands for dear life. It feels like he’s going to fall into the abyss and even when he’s getting fucked, the hurt and lust mixing together, it feels so surreal. Sakusa’s dick inside him feels _amazing_ and yet, Sakusa’s words pierced his heart, leaving him breathless.

Sakusa fucks him a little bit faster, harder and Atsumu tries to think but can’t. The only thing he can think of is Sakusa and leeching off his warmth and _staying_ right here, just perfect. His lips lets out a stream of moans and groans when Sakusa shifts, fucks directly into his prostate and leaving Atsumu thinking only of pleasure.

Then Sakusa slows down, slides his cock lazily inside Atsumu once again. He pulls back from Atsumu’s neck, his bangs matted to his forehead, looking like a handsome mess.

“Why,” Sakusa whispers, pulls his hand from Atsumu’s tight grip and trails his thumb from Atsumu’s temple to his jaw, so fucking _soft_.

Atsumu’s mind clears at the one word question and he can’t help but whisper back, “I don’t know.”

Suddenly, it’s _too much_. But isn’t that the soundtrack of his life anyways; _being too much, feeling too much, wanting too much._

Atsumu stares at Sakusa, says, “Omi, I don’t know.” He breathes in. “I don’t know, so don’t ask.” Atsumu says, suddenly so fucking emotional and he can’t help but let out a dry sob, feeling so helpless with all the emotions that he’s experiencing. He doesn’t know if he’s worth _feeling_ like this or if it’s just _karma_ but— but— “Why are ya d-doing this? Can’t-Can’t we just f-fuck and leave it at t-that, Omi?”

Sakusa shakes his head, cups his jaw with his free hand, “No, no. ‘tsumu, stay okay? Okay? I like you.” He repeats, a plead. “I want to be with you.”

“I don’t know,” Atsumu replies immediately, full on crying, tears sliding down the side of his face, eyes red, swollen. “Just fuck me. Fuck me so— so I can l-leave.”

“No,” Sakusa presses his lips on Atsumu’s own, kisses him gently while Atsumu cries, emotions going haywire and so so _tired_ of feeling like this. “You’re so pretty,” Sakusa murmurs against his lips and Atsumu lets out a half-sob and half-laugh. “When you cry. So pretty.”

Atsumu laughs then, voice wet. He hiccups, mouths on Sakusa’s lips, “Yer so weird, Omi.” He swallows, asks, “Why— Why do ya like me?” A pause, then he adds, “I’m nothing.”

“You’re everything,” Sakusa answers, quick, honest.

“Liar,” Atsumu retorts. “You used to hate me.”

“Used to,” Sakusa is quick to clarify. “No. I don’t think I ever did.” He leans in, licks the tear sliding down Atsumu’s cheek.

“Liar,” Atsumu accuses again. “I don’t deserve you.”

Sakusa presses their foreheads together, stops moving completely, body tense. “That’s true. You deserve more.”

“Liar,” Atsumu repeats, shaking his head.

“I’ve never lied to you,” Sakusa says, hands squeezing Atsumu’s hips. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“You said we’re friends,” Atsumu says. “Friends who fuck.”

“Because we are,” Sakusa agrees and Atsumu feels his heart hurting like someone is stabbing it again and again. “But we could be more. Okay?”

Atsumu kisses him instead of answering, says, “Fuck me.”

Sakusa doesn’t move for a long moment, pulling back from the kiss to stare at Atsumu. Something like hurt passes by his eyes, making Atsumu want to cuddle him close. But then Sakusa resumes fucking him, this time he shoves his cock inside Atsumu’s wet hole fast and hard, the constant and loud _squelch_ as he thrusts in and out obscene and filthy and Atsumu can’t say anything anymore. All he could do is hold on, try to meet Sakusa’s thrusts with his hips, and moan and groan and scream until his voice is hoarse and his dick is again twitching against his stomach.

Sakusa then takes a hold of his dick and Atsumu lets out a cry, hole tightening and body jerking at the feeling of Sakusa’s hands around his cock. He doesn’t think he can come again but his dick says otherwise, leaking a small drop of pre-come that Sakusa smears on his cockhead before pumping his cock the same pace as his thrusts.

Atsumu squirms when Sakusa continues to jerk him off and fuck him until he’s crying, his legs falling to the bed, body weak. He lays there, fucked silly by Sakusa, his cock oversensitive, twitching in Sakusa’s hold. It’s painful and at the same time pleasurable. He doesn’t know anymore.

“Feels so good,” Sakusa whispers, mouth pressed on Atsumu’s cheek. “Atsumu.”

Atsumu hiccups, shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t. O-Omi, feels… weird.”

Sakusa kisses his cheek, whispering _so pretty, so good, coming_ all the while fucking Atsumu even faster, his movements becoming erratic, wilder. He shoves his cock inside Atsumu a few more times before he comes with a loud groan, holding Atsumu close to him. When he comes down from his release, he continues to milk his orgasm while pumping Atsumu’s cock, making Atsumu cry and whine.

“ _OmiOmiOmiOmi,”_ Atsumu chants, digs his nails on Sakusa’s arms. “‘m coming, _coming_.”

When Atsumu comes, he screams, body arching like a bow, head thrown back in pained pleasure. His eyelids are wet as they shut tightly, the odd pleasure slamming into him too much for him to handle. His cock doesn’t spurt any liquid, dry. Sakusa is not surprised but Atsumu is and when he comes back to consciousness once again, body still trembling, he doesn’t know what to say or even if he’s got any energy to say anything.

When Atsumu lets out a pained whine, Sakusa lets his cock go and pushes his bangs away from his damp forehead.

“You okay?” Sakusa asks, worry painting his voice.

Atsumu’s body shudders as he blinks his eyes, tries to catch his breath. He looks at Sakusa who’s also breathing heavily, body covered with sweat. He can’t make sense of what just happened so he says,

“What.”

Sakusa slowly pulls his dick out of Atsumu’s abused hole, making Atsumu whimper then sigh in relief. He watches as Sakusa ties the condom and throws it in the trash, pumps some disinfectant on his hand then settles beside Atsumu once again.

Atsumu’s breath is steadying but his heart continues to thud wildly.

“What was that?” He asks, confused, a little scared.

Sakusa lays on his side, head pillowed by his hand. He reaches out and combs his fingers on Atsumu’s blonde hair, saying, “Dry orgasm. It happens to men sometimes.”

“Oh,” Atsumu blinks, body relaxing as Sakusa continues to run his hands through his hair.

Sakusa hums and Atsumu turns to him, eyes searching. Atsumu’s mind is now clearing, his dick having released for too many times that it resulted to dry orgasm, there’s no surprise that he’s _relaxed,_ weak-boned but he’s also pretty alert because— because now what?

He needs to get dressed, leave.

He needs to—

“Stay.”

Atsumu blinks a few times, swallows loudly. “I can’t.”

“Don’t run away,” Sakusa says, almost begging. “Atsumu, don’t go.”

Atsumu sniffs because he’s too emotional for this; his heart is too weak for this, he’s too fragile for this _right now_. He _can’t_ do this.

“Sakusa—“

“No,” Sakusa is quick to move on top of him, caging his body against the ruined sheets. “ _Please_.”

Atsumu has never seen Sakusa cry before but his eyes— his eyes are bleary, _teary_ and Atsumu can’t help but reach out, thumbing the wetness on the corner of his eyes.

“Why me, _Omi?_ ” Atsumu asks because— because he has to know. Atsumu is so imperfect, full of flaws, _too much_. Why him?

Sakusa covers his hand, holding it on his cheek, not letting go. “Because you’re you. I like that about you. I like you.”

How can Sakusa say that? And so easily? Atsumu’s throat is tight, it feels like he’s suffocating, choking on the words he wants to say but is afraid to. Will his _i like you_ be enough? Will his _i like you_ be filled with the dam of affection and emotions he feels towards Sakusa? Will his _i like you_ sound sincere, true, honest? Because that’s what he feels but _more_. It could be more. It _is_ more.

“Omi,” Atsumu whispers, rubs his thumbs on Sakusa’s cheek, soothing. “Thank you.”

Sakusa blinks at him, eyes expectant. “So—“

“I’ll stay,” Atsumu continues, leans up and connects their foreheads. “But can you give me until tomorrow? Let’s talk tomorrow, okay? I won’t run but— but Omi, so many things happened today. I want— I want to sleep on it. Can I?”

The moment Atsumu utters _stay_ Sakusa’s eyes seems to sparkle. He agrees with Atsumu, nodding in affirmative.

“Okay, okay. Just—“ He hugs Atsumu close, clinging to Atsumu’s body. “Stay.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu mumbles, eyes closing, exhausted.

Before he falls completely asleep, he hears Sakusa whisper a, _thank you_ and _good night, ‘tsumu_. Atsumu lets himself fall to dreamland, hoping that tomorrow will bring better days ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally!!!! theyre going to talk properly!!! tomorrow!! i'm sorry that it takes them long to talk properly but i'm following a list for the kinks and talking seriously inbetween is pretty hard lmao so tomorrow! everythings cleared up uwu


	12. eyes so bright (fall into me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 12: SOMNOPHILIA**
>
>> "Oh,” Atsumu breathes out. “Are ya confessing?”
>> 
>> Sakusa lets out a quiet chuckle, shrugs his shoulders then looks at Atsumu, eyes crinkling to the sides as a small smile stays on his lips.
>> 
>> He says, “I guess I am.”
> 
> **+updated tags!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is so late 😭 this a bit longer orz hope everyone enjoys! 💕  
>  **note:** this kink is all about consent beforehand! so i threw some hints of previous (notwritten) consent non-consent talk. bc consent is sexy 😳

Atsumu wakes up slowly, eyes bleary, still heavy with sleep. His surroundings are still dark and he wonders why he’s awake at the crack of dawn— or, not even. His sleepy mind thinks it’s still around three or four in the morning.

A breeze of chilly wind passes through and Atsumu shivers, pulls the duvet tighter around him. He blinks the sleep out of his mind and tries to make sense of what’s going on, why there is cold wind _in_ the room. He’s pretty sure they slept with the air conditioner turned off. The cold wind passes again and Atsumu huffs, turns around, ready to shove Sakusa off the bed for turning on the air conditioner, but his feet meets nothing, just air. Sakusa’s side of the bed is still slightly warm, letting him know that he’s just got out a few minutes ago.

Squinting in the dark, Atsumu allows the swaying curtain to hold his attention for a while before he focuses on the figure standing outside in the balcony, a cloud of smoke slipping out of his lips.

Atsumu frowns, shoves the duvet off him, shivers harshly before he goes to Sakusa’s closet, pulls a familiar neon green hoodie off the hanger and pulls it on quickly, followed by a clean boxer sliding up his legs because he’s not about to let his balls freeze out there. When he’s finally pulled the ends of the sweater over his hands, slightly pleased that the hoodie is oversized and _just perfect_ and _smells perfect_ , Atsumu slips outside, only realising that he’s barefoot after his feet hits the cold tiles.

“Hey,” Atsumu says, leans on the railing, and watches as Sakusa turn his head towards him, cigarette perched on his fingers.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Sakusa says, his arms on the railings, chin pillowed on them. He’s only wearing a shirt and sweatpants, making Atsumu frown because it’s already the middle of November and he might catch a cold.

Atsumu shrugs, steps a little bit closer, making them shoulder to shoulder. He scrunches his nose though, the smell of cigarette making his nose twitch.

“It’s okay,” He says, adds. “The bed was cold without ya.”

“I’ll come back soon,” Sakusa turns his attention back to the streets, a few cars passing by. “Go to sleep, Miya.”

“Why do ya do that,” Atsumu frowns, watches as Sakusa takes another drag off his cigarette.

“What? Smoking?” Sakusa blows a cloud of smoke at the opposite direction, still moot point because the wind blows it back to Atsumu’s direction, making him cough.

“No,” Atsumu gasps, hand fanning in front of him. “Call me Miya then call me Atsumu— I don’t understand.”

Sakusa turns to him then, his eyes searching, like he’s looking for answers in Atsumu’s face. He must not have found it because he turns back to the front, continues to watch the streetlights.

“I don’t know,” He says, quiet. “Maybe because it somehow reminds me that we’re not— you know. Reminds me to keep my distance.” He shrugs, takes a drag, blows a thick cloud of smoke.

Atsumu squints his eyes, feels his heart squeeze at the words thrown to him carelessly, like they don’t matter, like it won’t make him _feel_.

“But I call ya Omi,” Atsumu retorts like that would explain anything. In his mind, it does. Atsumu calls Sakusa _Omi_ all the time, does that mean he’s not keeping his distance? That he’s giving him hopes without even realising it?

“Yeah and does it mean anything?” Sakusa smiles, a little wistful, the curve of his lips small.

Atsumu studies the side of his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the quirk of his lips, the length of his long eyelashes. Sakusa, in every angle, is beautiful.

“Does it have to?” Atsumu asks back, fingers clutching the cold railing.

“Don’t know,” Sakusa continues to face the front as he speaks. “You’re affectionate to everyone, you smile to anyone who smiles at you and even when you dislike them at first, you’re quick to befriend them after. You have nicknames for almost everyone. But—“ He pauses, finally turns to Atsumu, his eyes dark, emotional. Atsumu’s breath stutters in its inhale, pinned by the intensity of Sakusa’s gaze. “But I don’t. I don’t do any of those. It’s— hard for me while it’s so easy for you. And at first, I was envious. You’re so bright, Miya. And people gravitate around you like you’re the sun and they’re the planets, wanting just a bit of your attention. I’m one of them, like some stray lonesome planet, wanting all of you to myself.” Sakusa takes a deep breath and Atsumu can’t take his eyes off of him.

That— that might have been the longest that Sakusa has talked to anyone, with the exception of his cousin, Komori and his family. Atsumu takes his words in, let it wash over him, word by word, meaning by meaning.

Atsumu doesn’t know what to say. He has never thought of himself like that; he’s never thought of him as the sun, not so bright nor helpful. He’s once compared himself to Icarus, wanting to reach the top only to fail— but he hasn’t fallen yet, hasn’t failed too hard that it made him lose control of himself. If he’s not Icarus, then who is he— because he’s _not_ the sun like how Sakusa sees him.

“I—I’m not—“ Atsumu starts, don’t know how to continue, allows his mouth to flap close.

Sakusa hums, “I thought so. You’re cocky, you know that? And confident and annoying and so frustrating. You’re too caught up in getting better that sometimes you forget to look around you, to the people who are trying to _catch up,_ only pausing for a while to cheer them up then leaving them in the dust again. You’re always evolving, working hard, just so you can continue doing what you love. And that’s what’s amazing about you.” Sakusa inhales, exhales.

“W-Why are ya telling me this, Omi?” Atsumu stutters, dumbfounded by the words being thrown at him. And from Sakusa of all people. Atsumu has never dreamt, in his whole young life, to be complimented by Sakusa like this. It’s— It’s _too much._

Sakusa crushes his old cigarette on the ashtray and lights another one. Atsumu narrows his eyes at the ashtray filled with cigarette butts, wondering how many Sakusa has already smoked before Atsumu woke up and joined him. He’s never pinned him as the smoker kind of guy, especially with his mysophobia but apparently, Atsumu is wrong. _Huh_.

“Don’t know,” Sakusa repeats, cigarette dangling on his lips. He looks— different like this, with his hair a curly mess atop his head, wearing casual clothes, barefooted, cigarette on his lips. He doesn’t look like the Sakusa that Atsumu knows. But perhaps, Atsumu doesn’t really know Sakusa, the one past the mask, the volleyball, the sex. It’s an odd feeling, knowing that you don’t truly know the guy that owns your heart.

“I think,” Sakusa says and Atsumu rubs his fingers on the ends of his hoodie. “I think I just— just want you to know that,” he takes in a deep breath, flicking his cigarette before continuing, “that you matter. That you’re _not_ nothing. To me, you are the sun, just a little bit blinding but warm.”

Atsumu furrows his brows, tries to understand what Sakusa is saying. Belatedly, Atsumu realises that they’re having the _talk_ that they both promised to have later today. And despite the little sleep Atsumu has gotten, his mind is alert, even more his heart. It thuds wildly in his chest, like it’s about to burst out, wanting to touch the person who owns it.

“Oh,” Atsumu breathes out. “Are ya confessing?”

Sakusa lets out a quiet chuckle, shrugs his shoulders then looks at Atsumu, eyes crinkling to the sides as a small smile stays on his lips.

He says, “I guess I am.” Then he reaches out, rubs a freezing finger on Atsumu’s cheek. “I just feel like you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same— I just… want you to know that you deserve happiness. With or without me in your life.” He cradles Atsumu’s cheek then, touch so light, so gentle it makes Atsumu want to cry because no one has ever been so careful with him before and here Sakusa is, holding him like he’s the most precious thing that he’s ever held.

“Yer too good for me,” Atsumu whispers, nuzzles on Sakusa’s hand. It smells like tobacco and disinfectant.

“And you’re all that I need,” Sakusa replies, traces Atsumu’s face with his thumb.

“Why me, Omi? I’m— I’m just… me. Even when ya think I’m the… the _sun,_ ” he cringes a little, continues, “I’m still me, annoying, loud, too much to handle. Ya deserve better,” Atsumu says, voice getting quieter, almost inaudible to hear.

Sakusa lets his cigarette fall to the ground as he cups Atsumu’s face with both hands, eyes staring at Atsumu’s own, full of emotions that Atsumu allows himself to decipher. Affection, determination, hesitation, and more swirls in his dark eyes. Atsumu steps closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth.

“You _are_ better,” Sakusa says, holding him close. “You’re so much better than me. You make people laugh, _happy_. You help them and even when you’re an asshole sometimes, you don’t hold grudges, you _forgive_. I know because I am here, in front you, once someone you _hated_ , holding you, wanting you to stay. Miya—“

“ _Atsumu_.” Atsumu whispers.

Sakusa smiles, “Atsumu, I like you so much. And no matter if you like me back or not, I just want you to know that _you_ deserve better.”

Atsumu’s lips tremble, his heart hurting so _bad_ , he could cry. His eyes go teary but the tears don’t fall. Instead, a smile blooms on his face because besides his family, no one has ever told Atsumu that he deserves _more_. That being _too much_ is okay, that being him is _enough_. Sakusa doesn’t compare him to anyone, doesn’t tell him to be more like his twin, or that he should stop being _him_. He doesn’t tell him to change, and that’s what strikes Atsumu to the point of hugging Sakusa so tight, he knocks the breath out of him.

He hears Sakusa groan at Atsumu’s actions but he doesn’t let up, arms tight around his waist, scared that he’d wake up from this dream, that Sakusa saying all of those things is only a figment of his wild imagination. Atsumu buries his head on the crook of Sakusa’s neck, inhales deeply and savours the smell of his warmth, the nicotine stuck on his shirt, the lavender of his shampoo, and the musk that is just _so_ Sakusa.

“Omi,” Atsumu mumbles on his neck, lips moving against his warm skin. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” Sakusa quickly assures, grip on Atsumu tightening.

“No. Omi, listen,” Atsumu tugs on the fabric of his shirt, pulling back and looking at him. “’m saying sorry ‘cause— ‘cause I’m a mess, ya know? Ya told me ya like me and yet, I refused to stay anything, wanting to keep ya but also hold ya at a distance. I’m scared, that you’ll wake up one day and realise that I’m not worth it. I—I don’t want that.”

“Why not?” Sakusa asks, and again, he searches Atsumu’s face for _something,_ waiting.

Atsumu swallows, wills himself to not shake, because he’s still scared but— but when he looks at Sakusa, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if the future brings them heartbreak, it won’t be as bad and it would be worth it because right here, right now, it is Sakusa that he wants. That is enough reason to take a leap of faith.

“Because I like you,” Atsumu confesses, firm, honest, even when his heart is stuck in his throat and he’s shaking on his feet. “I like you so much it hurts.” He repeats, then lets out a dry sob, “It hurts.”

Sakusa wipes his dry cheek, as if feeling the ghost of the tears that Atsumu has let out yesterday. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts.” He presses a light kiss on Atsumu’s forehead, murmurs, “I feel it too.”

“Is it supposed to hurt, Omi?” Atsumu blinks at him, a pout on his lips. “Does liking someone suppose to hurt like this?”

“I don’t know,” Sakusa whispers against Atsumu’s lips. “Maybe. Maybe not. I like you so much that I want to be with you all the time. It hurts when you’re not here.”

“Oh,” Atsumu blinks and presses a soft kiss to Sakusa’s lips. “Me too.” Another kiss. “Me too.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa kisses him back, just as softly.

“But,” Atsumu starts, hesitates a little because it’s not that it’s _too_ important but Atsumu thinks he needs an explanation, some sort of closure on _why_.

“But?” Sakusa looks at him, brows furrowed, confused.

“What happened yesterday,” Atsumu whispers, looks down at their feet. They’re standing toe to toe, lining up so perfectly, like puzzle pieces, perfect for each other. “What Momoka-san and Saito-san said… I— Why didn’t ya… I just—“ Atsumu stutters, nervous, feeling like he’s asking for too much once again. He doesn’t want that. He could just forget yesterday ever happened but _he can’t_ because _that_ hurts.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa starts, holding Atsumu’s face, forcing him to look at him. Atsumu gasps at the apologetic look on Sakusa’s face, his eyes conveying what he feels. “I’m sorry that happened. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I was scared they would cause a scene or misinterpret our relationship again. I know they’ll gossip, they’ll tell everyone in our… _circle_ because that’s the only amusement they have in their pathetic lives.” Sakusa snarls, eyes glinting in hate.

Atsumu feels himself relaxing already, glad that he’s getting an explanation. He doesn’t want to get into a relationship with Sakusa with these thoughts bothering him. Hearing someone call him a _play thing_ hurts like a bitch. It made him think of what their relationship really is and what he means to Sakusa; if he’s really just a convenient body for him to fuck or if he really meant it when he told Atsumu that he likes him. Atsumu knows that overthinking _ruins_ relationships and keeping something to himself would be detrimental not only to him but also to Sakusa. And so he’s glad Sakusa is apologising because Atsumu deserved that apology. Even if he’s just a _playtoy_ he doesn’t deserve being talked and looked down on. He’s a human being, he deserves _respect_.

“Are yer rich friends also like…those?” Atsumu asks, lips set into a frown.

Sakusa shakes his head, hugs Atsumu tight. “No,” he whispers. “I don’t have _rich_ friends. I have you and my family. And the team. I was…never one to bother making friends with our so called _community_. I only know them because I had to, not because I wanted to. I’m really sorry,” he murmurs on Atsumu’s hair. “I wish I could have done more but I couldn’t… and it pained me seeing you stand there, hurting. I never want that to happen again.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu nods, breathes in, allows his heart to beat at the same time as Sakusa’s own, now feeling like the weight of the world has dropped from his shoulders. He feels content, in Sakusa’s arms, with the clouds turning pink and the sun rising from the east. “Thank you.” Atsumu whispers. “I needed that.”

“It’s nothing,” Sakusa replies, presses a kiss on Atsumu’s head. “I should be the one saying thank you.”

Atsumu snorts, nuzzles on Sakusa’s neck. “For what?”

“For giving me a chance,” Sakusa says, quiet, sincere.

“Take care of me, Kiyoomi.” Atsumu jokes, watches as the morning light envelopes them, waking the world. A new beginning.

“I will, Atsumu.” Sakusa replies, then teases, “You’re wearing my hoodie.”

Atsumu giggles, “Ya like?”

“Yeah.”

And before he could say anything else, Atsumu yawns loudly, whines, “I’m tired.”

“Let’s sleep more, yeah?” Sakusa suggest, slowly moving the both of them inside.

“What time is it?” Atsumu yawns again, lets his body sag against Sakusa’s own.

“Maybe five.” Sakusa answers as he drags both of them to bed, arranges the duvet on top of them before he pulls Atsumu close to him, face buried on Atsumu’s hair.

“Kay.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

When Atsumu wakes up the second time, he’s wrapped in Sakusa’s arms, a little disoriented. He tries to think of what happened, head pounding behind his skull. He opens his eyes a little, squinting, and groans at the amount of light that’s seeping through the windows. He lays there for a moment, waiting for his mind to clear and for the pounding in his head to stop performing some sort of drum solo. _Ugh_.

What he remembers immediately is yesterday, the gala, the fight, the rough sex. Atsumu frowns, turns to Sakusa and traces his face with his eyes. He looks peaceful like this, like he’s got no worries. The ever present frown is gone, replaced with a lax expression, so _soft_.

Atsumu can’t help but continue to stare as his mind continues to inform him of what has happened between the night and twilight. He remembers their long talk; the confession, the explanation, the cleared up misunderstandings. When those takes the spotlight in his mind, Atsumu can’t help but smile, then giggle because Sakusa is such a _sap_.

He compared Atsumu to a sun! And him to a planet!

 _He’s such a sap,_ Atsumu sighs, happy, content.

When he tires of staring at Sakusa’s unmoving face, Atsumu becomes restless. He wiggles around, thinking of what to do. Maybe cook breakfast? But first shower. Then what’s he going to cook for breakfast? _Hmm_.

Atsumu turns, buries his face on Sakusa’s chest just because he can and sighs when the other automatically wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. Atsumu smiles, hugs the other back, then grins at the _genius_ idea he suddenly gets.

Contrary to porn, especially _hentai,_ videos that shows a lot of misinformed kinks and scenes, being fucked hard and functioning the day after _is_ possible. Atsumu can attest to that. Sakusa’s fucked him hard a few times the day before practice and Atsumu can still set perfectly to his teammates. Although perhaps that’s just his incredible pain tolerance talking, _still_ he’s functioning and no amount of fucking will make him _fuck up_ when it comes to volleyball.

So yes, today he’s _fine_ , a lot sore but nothing a full day of rest can’t fix. And he plans to do that later, boss Sakusa to do things just because he’s a brat and Sakusa wouldn’t be able to say anything. After all, _he’s_ the reason Atsumu is sore. _So_.

But that’s for later. Right now, Atsumu wants Sakusa’s cock in his mouth, wanting to taste him on his tongue, wants that cock to ruin his throat until it’s difficult to talk for a day or two.

With that thought, he crawls on top of him, settles on his stomach, legs on either side. Sakusa groans a little but doesn’t wake up, still deep in sleep. It’s really such a wonder to Atsumu how Sakusa can sleep so deep even when Atsumu is banging fucking pans in the room. One time he did that, Sakusa slept through one minute of Atsumu banging pans _and_ vacuuming. He’s _that_ deep sleeper. But then Atsumu rides his dick once, morning wood too tempting for him to ignore, and immediately, Sakusa is awake and fucking him lazily, sleepily, murmuring filthy things in his ears.

It’s really such a wonder.

Atsumu doesn’t dwell much on Sakusa’s sleeping habits though. He quickly slides down the other’s body, settles between his legs, pulls his pants and boxers down enough that Atsumu can take out his dick. Atsumu hums at the sight of it, hand rubbing it to hardness before he puts his mouth on the head, humming. He’d _feel_ guilty doing this without asking but after riding Sakusa’s cock that one morning, Sakusa has explicitly told him to _do whatever as long as you make me come_. And _well_.

The cock on his mouth twitches, continues to harden with his ministrations. Atsumu covers Sakusa’s cock with spit, so wet and so good. When it’s in its full hardened length, Atsumu moans against its head, bobbing his head slowly, tasting the pre-come on his tongue and savouring the feel of it hitting his throat. He alternates in between dropping kitten licks on Sakusa’s hard cock and hollowing his cheeks, bobbing his head fast, letting it choke him.

Atsumu is enjoying blowing Sakusa so much that he doesn’t notice him wake up until a hand lands on his hair and tugs on it harshly. Atsumu blinks his eyes open, looks up at Sakusa through his eyelashes, cheeks full of his cock.

Sakusa hums, looking down at Atsumu, mouth stuffed. He says, voice hoarse with sleep, “Yeah, babe. Faster.”

Atsumu chokes then whines at the nickname because _that’s a first what the fuck_. He doesn’t think much of it _for now_ , focusing on flattening his tongue and letting Sakusa fuck into his mouth, hips moving in and out, hitting his throat a couple of times. Atsumu lets Sakusa do this for a while, making gagging noises, moaning when Sakusa shoves his dick on his cheeks, then fucking into him hard.

When Sakusa’s movements gets shallower, Atsumu bobs his head faster and hollows his cheeks tighter, wanting for Sakusa to come down his throat. He moans when Sakusa shoves his face down, making him gag loudly, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. They do that a couple more times, shove, gag, pull out, breathe, and again until Sakusa’s legs trembles and his cock twitches inside Atsumu’s, releasing his come down is throat. Atsumu gags again but swallows Sakusa’s come, humming, tongue swirling on the softening cock, kissing its cockhead when Sakusa finally pulls out of his mouth.

“Good morning, _babe_ ,” Atsumu greets, voice wrecked, spit on his cheeks and chin.

Sakusa huffs, catching his breath before he chuckles, pulls Atsumu on top of him and smiles at him, looking so _happy_.

Atsumu did that.

He made Omi— no, he made _his_ Omi _happy_.

“Morning, 'tsumu.” Sakusa greets back. “Want me to jerk you off?”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Nope. I’m good. Still sore from yesterday.”

“Sorry,” Sakusa says, hand slipping under Atsumu’s— _Sakusa’s_ but now it’s his—hoodie, rubbing his hands up and down Atsumu’s warm skin.

“’s okay. I liked it anyways.” Atsumu grins, nuzzles his face on Sakusa’s cheek. “Breakfast?”

“Traditional please.”

“I was going to say egg and bacon but ya and yer traditional Japanese breakfast… really.” Atsumu laughs, sits up on Sakusa’s stomach.

“You’re so pretty,” Sakusa blurts out and his eyes widen, like he doesn’t mean to say it. Then he shrugs, says, “You look pretty in my hoodie.”

Atsumu grins, “I know.” Then jumps off the bed and heads to the bathroom while saying, “Now go prepare our breakfast, Kiyoomi. I’m tired today.”

Sakusa sits up on the bed, snorts, “Brat,”

Atsumu laughs, feeling happy.

Maybe he won’t have to get out of this after all. Unscathed, scathed; he doesn’t have to think about that. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this drained all my emotions,,,,, lmao from next chap uh,,, we're doing porn and domesticity 😋  
> (also; someone recced the hoodie!atsumu to me here and thank YOU so much for that!! love atsumu in a hoodie 😋😋😋)


	13. he likes to call me peaches (take all of me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 13: SPANKING/BODY WORSHIP**
>
>> “Omi,” Atsumu bumps their shoulders. “Rate our date.”
>> 
>> Sakusa furrows his brows at him, “Rate?”
>> 
>> Atsumu laughs, “Yeah. From 1 as lame to 10 as the best. How was it?”
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing to say. just porn and some feels i guess????? idkkkk  
>  ~~wishing sakusa would call atsumu peaches,,,when they do the nasty~~

A lot of people would think that once people that likes each other finally gets together, everything would change. Perhaps, something would have changed if Atsumu has fallen for Sakusa in high school and he confessed and then they get together. He thinks something like years of hate and rivalry could have been avoided, they would have been engaged by now or _something._

But that didn’t happen and Atsumu prefers it like that; prefers to be with Sakusa now that he’s a bit knowledgeable about feelings and less overexcited about experiencing new things. Especially on the sex part. He thinks he might have hurt himself _and_ Sakusa with how overeager he was with sex before his libido has calmed down and sleeping with different people became more of a chore than enjoyable.

Nonetheless, as new couples, people would have expected them to change how they act towards each other but— but _nothing_ really changed. At least when they are in public, surrounded by people. And it’s understandable. At least, to Atsumu. After all, years of acting like the other is a pest in their life is hard to shed, even more _change_ in a blink of an eye.

But they try to be less vindictive in the court and practice in general. Sakusa continues buying him food and drinks and Atsumu continues to scold him about it because he’s not his _sugar daddy_ but his lover _, what the hell, omi._ Sakusa doesn’t listen though, buys even more expensive shit because he likes seeing Atsumu blush while sitting on the bench, surrounded by their teammates who stares at them and wonders, probably, if the real Sakusa has been abducted and is replaced by an alien.

Other than those things that are now a part of their routine, they bicker and tease each other still but their smiles after is a tell-tale that they’re not serious, that every words coming out of their mouths, either an insult or demand, is out of affection.

And Atsumu would have loved to say that their private lives are the same but he’s loathe—embarrassed, more like _—_ to admit that both of them are really just idiots who likes each other _too much._ It shows in the way Sakusa refuses to let Atsumu go in the morning, grumbling for _five more minutes, babe_ like a kid. Or when Atsumu—loathe as he is to admit—calls every evening when they’re not together just so he can listen to Sakusa’s voice until they fall asleep.

Their sex life isn’t any better. In fact, they get _worse_ because Sakusa has lost all his inhibitions and has gone fucking feral. Or something like that.

He continues to mark Atsumu’s neck and legs with deep hickeys that only disappears after two or three days, or even longer. Atsumu retaliates sometimes, delights in the reddening of Sakusa’s ears when their teammates ask Sakusa where he got that bruise on his neck from and _were they good_? Atsumu can only cackle like an evil villain.

But then he regrets it later because Sakusa litters more bruises on even more revealing places like the back of his thighs, just under where their uniform shorts stop; and on his inner arms, subtle but _obvious_ when Atsumu sets the ball and everyone _sees_. He’s the but of jokes and teasing when he joins the practice like that, scowl marring his face and a proud look on Sakusa’s. Tsk.

One time, Hinata asks, “Atsumu-san, are you sure you don’t need some insect spray? Your… mosquito bites seem to become bigger…”

Often times, Atsumu wonders if Hinata knows about him and Sakusa or he’s really just _that_ oblivious to how adults live their lives. But then he sees the teasing gleam in his eyes and Atsumu stops thinking of him as _innocent_ because no one who has lived in Brazil, befriended Oikawa Tooru, and lived to tell the tale is bound to still be _innocent_. No fucking way.

Atsumu’s answer has been a stutter of, “Uh—Uh, I guess.” Cue awkward laugh. Then, “The insects these days are so big though, sometimes I think they’re out to kill me.” He says this while side-eyeing Sakusa who’s been drinking his water and is now choking on it. _Haha._

“Be careful, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto adds, grinning. “Some pests are pretty _possessive._ Maybe they’re just marking their territory. If it gets too much, just exterminate them!”

Atsumu _swears_ Bokuto is just teasing him now because his grin is mischievous and he might act like an idiot sometimes but Bokuto is nothing but _observant_. Especially with the people he cares about and he cares a lot about his team.

Atsumu’s cheeks feels so hot, he thinks he’s gonna burst from being embarrassed. He wills his blush to stop spreading to his neck but that’s impossible because he feels so _mortified_. His teammates knows they’re fucking! Or at least that Atsumu is fucking someone who likes to leave their marks on him.

_Ohmygod_.

He wishes a hole would appear under and swallow him whole. Save him from this hell.

But nothing of the sort happens and he hears Sakusa say, “If you need help with _exterminating_ , I’m here.”

Atsumu throws him a glare, stomps his foot and throws a volleyball on Sakusa’s infuriatingly handsome face.

That evening, they go home to Atsumu’s place where he rides Sakusa’s dick with Sakusa’s hands bound loosely by a necktie.

Atsumu has whispered to him, “I’m going to _exterminate_ you once and for all.” He grins, teasing. “So you can’t touch. If you touch I’ll stop and leave you with blue balls.”

Sakusa has shrugged, grinning back at Atsumu, then leans back on the headboard and enjoys the view while fucking up into Atsumu’s wet hole.

So yes, their sex life has become worse _for_ the better and Atsumu wouldn’t change it for the world.

* * *

Days pass by and it’s now the last day of November and the cold is becoming unbearable. Atsumu is wearing a thick trench coat that Sakusa has gifted him on their first week anniversary of being together because apparently, they should celebrate those… kinds of things. It’s totally unexpected and just a little bit— _a lot—_ romantic but looking back now, it probably was just some fabricated lie so he can buy Atsumu _something_. Sakusa, Atsumu finds out, likes to take care of his lover, which is fortunately Atsumu. He buys him gifts, he pays for food, orders his favourite tea, shares his Netflix account with him. And Atsumu might grumble and huff about it because he’s not helpless or even lacking _money_ but he does appreciate it at the end, planting kisses on Sakusa’s smiling and pleased face.

Now he’s using the trench coat, beige and warm and big and comfortable in its luxury. His hands are shoved inside the pockets while his neck is surrounded by a thick scarf. He feels so warm. Especially with Sakusa walking beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

It’s an odd day to have a day off, a _Monday_ but Coach has given them a long weekend in exchange for not having any day off the next two weeks because of a series of out of town games. Agreeing with this, now Atsumu and Sakusa are on a _date_ on a Monday, the streets of _Umeda_ not as busy as compared to the weekend.

“Omi,” Atsumu bumps their shoulders. “Rate our date.”

Sakusa furrows his brows at him, “Rate?”

Atsumu laughs, “Yeah. From 1 as lame to 10 as the best. How was it?”

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums, stares at Atsumu for a while as they wait to cross the street. “Shopping, minus 10. You didn’t let me buy you anything.”

Atsumu snorts, “I didn’t need new shoes, OmiOmi. Go on.”

“Lunch, 7 out of ten, you didn’t let me hold your hand on the table,” Sakusa says as they cross the street, steps quick but steady.

“We were in _public_. And I was eating a burger! Using both of my hands! Spare me,” Atsumu whines, then laughs, Sakusa joining after. “Okay, okay. Continue.”

“I liked when we went to the arcade and I got teach you how to shoot properly on the basketball game. Ten out of ten.” Sakusa says, eyes soft, the setting sun hitting his hair just perfectly that the black strands becomes dark brown. His ears are a bit red from the cold, as well as his cheeks that’s half covered by the mask. And he looks ethereal like this, Atsumu can’t believe this person is _his_ person. His heart jumps in joy at that thought, happy.

Atsumu bumps their shoulders again, blushing, “Ya just wanted to rub your dick against my a—“

Sakusa squishes his cheeks together before he can complete his sentence. Atsumu giggles, holds Sakusa’s wrists as he makes kissy or fishy, _whatever,_ faces at him.

“You talk too much,” Sakusa says, grabbing Atsumu’s wrist, stirring him to their— _Sakusa’s_ building.

“Not what ya said last night,” Atsumu wiggles his eyebrows, sneers at Sakusa like some pervert.

Sakusa sighs, entering the building and pressing the elevator to the apartment. “You need a filter.”

“Nope,” Atsumu now cuddles close to him, hooks his arm around Sakusa’s elbow when they enter the elevator. “Never gonna shut up.”

“You should,” Sakusa quips.

Atsumu blows air on his ear, whispering, a tease, “Make me.”

Sakusa turns to him, brow cocked just slightly. “Is that a challenge?”

Atsumu grins, shrugs as the elevator dings and as he steps out, says, “Maybe.”

Sakusa’s eyes darken so fast, Atsumu’s breath hitches.

Damn, he’s in for an amazing evening. Again.

What Atsumu has learned about Sakusa these past weeks that they’ve been together is that he is easy to provoke. Or at least, he is easily provoked by Atsumu. Especially when it comes to their bedroom shenanigans. When Atsumu says something bratty or a challenge, Sakusa takes it seriously and goes a mile _and_ beyond to prove to Atsumu that, yes, he can do this and no, there’s no one else that can fuck Atsumu like Sakusa fucks him.

It’s no different now, Atsumu biting on soft silk sheets as he squirms on Sakusa’s lap. Admittedly, they’ve done this before but just a little, an experiment; not as serious. But now, with Sakusa’s eyes dark and intense and trained on Atsumu’s ass wiggling on top of his thighs, it feels _different_.

“Omi,” Atsumu whispers, sheets bunched on his fingers.

“Shh,” Sakusa shushes, palming Atsumu’s asscheeks. “Do you want to count?”

Atsumu shakes his head, buries his face on the silk fabric. “No, just wanna feel ya.”

“Okay, babe.” Sakusa drops a kiss on the back of his thigh, teeth nipping on the skin. “Color?”

“Green,” Atsumu breathes out, relaxes his body.

Doing things like this with Sakusa is a new experience to him because before, even though he knows it’s _dangerous_ , Atsumu has liked the thrill of just not having a way out. His partners didn’t ask for _colors,_ just does what Atsumu wants, until they’re both sated.

With Sakusa though, it’s always safe and good and a lot of assurance whispered to him. It makes Atsumu’s heart feel at peace, that he can trust his body to someone responsible and not reckless like him.

“Good,” Sakusa says, continues to knead his asscheeks. “I’ll do fifteen. Only say something if it’s your safe word. Other than that, _shut up._ ”

Atsumu wiggles his ass, turns his head to look at Sakusa, offers a grin, “Make me.”

“Right,” Sakusa says before he pulls his hands off him then strikes, surprising Atsumu, making him jerk.

He moans loudly at the first touch, Sakusa’s hand big and warm, the impact isn’t as painful but he knows from experience that it will just get harsher from here on out. And because he just can’t _shut_ his mouth up, he says,

“That all ya got, Kiyoomi?”

Sakusa rubs his cheeks before another hit lands on his skin, this time harsher and making him cry out. Atsumu’s cock, trapped between his stomach and Sakusa’s lap, twitches, leaks pre-come. He groans.

He opens his mouth, just because he likes taunting Sakusa until he loses control but he doesn’t get to say anything as another even harsher stroke lands on his cheek. Atsumu sobs and jerks when Sakusa continues to hit his ass, alternating on his left and right cheeks, then on his thighs, and even the skin close to his balls. He loses count of how many has landed on his skin, his face buried on the sheets, unable to form any words and the only sounds coming out of him are moans and sobs, his eyes leaking tears as Sakusa continues to abuse his skin.

“Shh,” Sakusa shushes again, rubbing a soothing hand on his red skin. “Five more, ‘tsumu. Alright?”

Atsumu blinks wet eyelids, then nods, croaks out when Sakusa pinches his skin, “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Sakusa says, the praise washing through Atsumu, making him heady.

When the first of five strikes comes, Atsumu wails against the sheets, his red skin throbbing in pain. He continues to sob on the sheets, not letting out any sound escape that barrier except the occasional whine.

“Last,” Sakusa says then strikes so hard Atsumu’s body jerks, feeling the imprint of Sakusa’s hand on his ass. He thinks he could come untouched if more strikes lands on his asscheeks but Sakusa moves him quickly but carefully, lays him on the bed on his stomach. “You were so good,” Sakusa whispers, kissing his shoulders. “My good baby.”

Atsumu hums, body giving slight jerks, feeling like he’s coming down from an intense orgasm. He can feel Sakusa suck bruise on the nape of his neck then litters more kisses down to his spine and his shoulder blades.

“Look at you,” Sakusa says, kneading his hips. “You look so pliant and beautiful.” He praises, kissing the dimples on Atsumu’s back, dipping his tongue on it and sucking a mark, making Atsumu moan. “Hmm, your back is so muscular and this—“ he licks the dimples again, Atsumu lets out another moan. “I love this part of you, so sensitive when I kiss it.”

“Omi,” Atsumu slurs, face pillowed on his arm, his eyes half-lidded.

“Yeah,” Sakusa replies, a warm breath of air hitting Atsumu’s asscheek. “Did you know you have such round ass?” Atsumu snorts at that, flails his legs. Sakusa chuckles, continues, “It’s one of the reasons I like eating your ass, you know.” He takes the round and red flesh of Atsumu’s asscheeks then squeezes hard before spreading them and burying his face in between, tongue prodding Atsumu’s hole just a little.

“Ohmygod,” Atsumu breathes out, bucks his hips, wanting Sakusa’s tongue inside him. “Please, _Kiyoomi_.”

“You want me to eat you out?” Sakusa asks, a little bit teasing. He continues to lick down the back of Atsumu’s thighs, biting on the supple flesh before he murmurs, “Your thighs are so strong, babe. Just perfect for my hands to hold on to as I fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, _please_ ,” Atsumu whines, desperate. He pushes his ass out again, hoping that Sakusa will stop teasing him soon.

“Hmm,” Sakusa bites and sucks at the skin just above the back of Atsumu’s knee, making him jerk wildly because _it tickles_.

He looks back at Sakusa and pouts, hits him with the heel of his feet, says, “Stop teasing.”

Sakusa smiles at him, rubbing his hands on Atsumu’s thighs up and down. “Okay, okay.” And with that, he buries his face on Atsumu’s ass, tongue prodding his hole and sucking hard, letting spit wet Atsumu’s tight hole as he continues to knead his asscheeks.

Atsumu thrusts on the bed, the friction against his cock and Sakusa’s tongue on his ass making him moan and groan, muffled by the pillow under him. Sakusa’s fingers spreads his cheeks wider and he prods his tongue faster inside his hole, humming like eating Atsumu’s ass is just what he wants to do forever. And it might be with how he’s sucking and licking Atsumu’s hole, so filthy and obscene.

Atsumu continues to fuck his cock against the sheets until he can feel his arousal reaching its peak. He moans loudly, chanting _coming coming,_ Sakusa’s tongue inside him unrelenting. When he finally comes, it’s against his stomach and the sheets, Sakusa’s face still buried between his ass. Sakusa doesn’t relent for a while, milking Atsumu’s orgasm. He widens Atsumu’s ass, fucks his hole with his tongue a few more times until Atsumu is begging for him to stop, sensitive.

“Good?” Sakusa asks, chin and cheeks covered in spit, looking a mess.

Atsumu turns to him, winces when his ass meets the cool sheets. “Hmm, the best.”

Sakusa grins, climbs on top of Atsumu and pulls his cock out of his shorts, says, “A little help?”

Atsumu giggles before wrapping his hands around Sakusa’s stiff cock, already wet with pre-come. He pumps his hands fast, watches as Sakusa throws his head back, neck straining, a deep moan dropping from his lips. He holds Atsumu’s wrists lightly, sometimes squeezing when it gets too much, his thighs against Atsumu’s sides.

“Come for me, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu whispers, twists his hands _just so_ and quickens the pace, pumping his hands faster until Sakusa is quivering on top of him and his cock is twitching in his hold. He strokes Sakusa’s cock a few more times before it spurts thick white liquid that lands on Atsumu’s stomach and hands, his grip and movement not relenting until Sakusa’s cock is soft and he’s twitching in oversensitivity.

“‘tsumu,” Sakusa whispers, blinking his eyes open. Atsumu grins as he watches Sakusa watch him lick his come off of his hands, small kitten licks on his palm then swallowing loudly, humming in content.

“I missed that,” Atsumu mumbles, sucking a finger inside his mouth.

Sakusa stares at him, eyes dark, “Did you want to swallow it?”

Atsumu chuckles, shakes his head, “Nah, I just like seeing yer expression when I lick yer come off my fingers.”

“You look hot,” Sakusa admits, brows furrowing. “Too hot.”

Atsumu giggles, “I know.” Then he winces when he sits up, pouts, “My ass hurts.”

“Sorry,” Sakusa says and Atsumu pouts even more. “I’ll help you massage some cream on it.”

“Ya better,” Atsumu buries his face on Sakusa’s clothed stomach. “And ya better carry me to the bathroom. I want a bath, OmiOmi.”

“Yes, yes,” Sakusa says, smiling.

“And one of yer hoodie?”

“Will you return it after?”

Atsumu quickly says, shameless, “No.”

“Right.”

“Will ya still let me borrow?”

“Of course, babe.”

“Thanks, Omi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this chapter is a bit lackluster so im sorry for that!!! imma do better next ehehehe  
> ps: ill reply to comments tomorrow! thank you so so so much for continuing to read and like this fic 🥺💕


	14. cause when you look like that (it drives me wild)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 14: FACE SITTING**
>
>> “You're... _just there_ ,” he says and Atsumu raises a brow, just a wee bit exasperated by his boyfriend. “You expect me to not get hard?”
>> 
>> Atsumu snorts, fingers combing Sakusa’s bangs off his forehead. “My boyfriend is a sex addict,” he sighs, long suffering.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!! i like this chap ahaha

Atsumu and Sakusa, only a day into their relationship, has decided to hide their new relationship status from the team until they get used to their new relationship status. Or until they feel comfortable enough to let other people _know_ about them. Well, of course, with the exception of Osamu and Komori. They’re the only two people besides them who knows that _finally_ they’re together after the emotional rollercoaster that the new couple has apparently has made them go through. Osamu’s words, of course.

As a new couple, it doesn’t really feel like they’re a _new couple_. To Atsumu, it feels like they’ve been together for so long that the honeymoon phase should have already passed and now they’re supposed to be on the bickering married couple phase. But what with them not getting enough of each other everyday, still managing to have sex despite straining and aching muscles after practice, Atsumu thinks their honeymoon phase would never go away. Hopefully.

With that said, the bits of teasing they get from their team about their hickeys are somehow becoming more often and not after long, three weeks or so into their relationship, some people are already connecting the dots. Like Inunaki.

“Sakusa-san, you never buy us lunch everyday,” Inunaki says when they take a lunch break and Sakusa is handing Atsumu a protein bar and a carton of milk.

Sakusa looks at him and Atsumu flinches just a little at being called out, albeit in a roundabout way.

“Do you want me to?” Sakusa retorts instead of answering the unspoken question. That of _why do you buy atsumu lunch everyday?_ Atsumu keeps quiet, lets Sakusa deal with this as he sips on his milk.

Inunaki grins, now joined by Bokuto and Hinata whose eyes are sparkling and ears twitching, hungry for gossip like those aunties on the streets.

“I mean, _you could_ ,” Inunaki says, shifts his eyes to Atsumu. Atsumu tries not to react, fingers gripping his milk carton just a little tightly. “We’re getting jealous of Tsum-Tsum who gets lunch for free everyday.”

Atsumu chokes a little on his protein bar and Sakusa rubs his back, fingers gentle, running up and down his heaving back.

“I don’t get free lunch,” Atsumu says after he’s stopped coughing, leaning a little on Sakusa’s touch, almost forgetting the people around them. When he realises what it is he’s doing, he clears his throat and shrugs Sakusa’s hand from his back and whines, overdramatic, “He does it without me asking! I don’t know what’s wrong with him. And besides, I _pay_ him back through hard labor.”

The last sentence is directed at Sakusa whose ears immediately turns red, his hand laying on the bench, between Atsumu and him, twitching, like he wants to smack Atsumu’s smug face for saying that innuendo or maybe spank him. The latter is more possible. Atsumu continues to grin, condescending.

“Oh? Omi-Omi makes you work, Tsum-Tsum?” Bokuto asks, head tilting to the side. “Must be hard. Is that where some of your bruises come from?” His innocent smile turns into a shit eating grin and if Atsumu has ever thought of him innocent before—which he never did because he’s friends with Akaashi and Akaashi overshares sometimes—it’s blown away by the words coming out of Bokuto's mouth. This man is _evil._

Atsumu, upon hearing that, sputters, exclaims, “No!”

Sakusa, the little shit that he is, simultaneously says, calm, “Yes.”

“Omi!” Atsumu turns to him, cheeks red and eyes wide.

Sakusa shrugs, “It’s true.” He smiles, “You’ve worked hard, Miya.”

Atsumu slumps on the bench, almost falling back on his ass as he grumbles, “I can’t believe ya. We agreed to keep it a secret.”

“Keep what a secret?” Hinata asks, eyes sparkling even more.

“I don’t care anymore,” Atsumu pinches his the bridge of his nose, defeated. “They’re also gonna tease ya anyways, so ya tell them, Omi.”

“Oh,” Inunaki looks at them, back and forth, Atsumu to Sakusa, for a few times before laughing, wheezing a, “I get it. Wow. You two, huh?”

“Really?” Bokuto stares at Inunaki then to the couple sitting on the bench, now being scrutinised by half of the team. Atsumu feels like he’s in a zoo, being displayed for everyone’s amusement.

“Yeah,” Sakusa nods as a hand travels to Atsumu’s back and starts running up and down smoothly. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says, adds with a pained sigh, “Unfortunately.”

“Hey!” Atsumu pouts at Sakusa before his lips blooms into a smirk. “Who said I’m yer boyfriend?”

Sakusa furrows his brows, looks at Atsumu like he’s crazy. He is. And he’s having absolute fun watching Sakusa’s face change from one emotion to another. _Haha_.

“You?” Sakusa answers, brows still furrowed.

“Ooooh,” Hinata crouches on the floor, chin on his hands, like he’s watching an interesting romantic movie. “Trouble in paradise.”

Atsumu snorts, waves a hand dismissively, “Nothing like that. No paradise to be troubled when there wasn’t one to begin with.”

“What,” Sakusa deadpans, ignoring another chorus of _ooooh_ s from their teammates.

“I’m single,” Atsumu says and quickly, a hand lands on the nape of his neck, long fingers massaging, even though the owner is narrowing his eyes at him. And because he loves seeing Sakusa absolutely lose it for such mundane things, he says, “No one asked me to be their boyfriend so—“ He grins at Inunaki, continues, “Inunaki-san, if ya ever thought of askin’ me, this is yer cha—“

“Absolutely not,” Sakusa spits out so quickly and harshly that Atsumu can’t help but flinch a little.

After recovering though, he grins at his _boyfriend_ , eyes twinkling in mischief. “Oh, why not, Omi? I’m single yanno, anyone can f—”

“Shut up,” Sakusa frowns, brows deeply furrowed. His hand on Atsumu’s neck is now a tight hold. Atsumu leans on his touch, body language contradictory to his words.

“Make me,” Atsumu grins and before he or anyone in the closest vicinity can say anything else, Sakusa has already pulled him into a deep kiss, tongue delving into his mouth and making him moan before he pulls back, Atsumu following his lips.

“My eyes!” Inunaki screams, hands covering his face, even though his fingers are widely spread and his eyes are peaking through them.

“Are we making porn?” Bokuto teases, not bothered at all.

Hinata blushes so hard, he looks like a tomato, stuttering, “O-oh m-my g-god.” And then, a yell, “Sakusa-san kissed Tsum-Tsum!”

Meian, from across the court, shouts, “Took him long enough!”

And then the team breaks out into whistling and cheers like the fucking five years olds that they are. Through all this, Atsumu’s face has resembled that of a sweet ripe strawberry, so red he might as well combust right there on the bench. His wide eyes are mortified as he looks around and people keeps on shouting _you go sakusa_ and _miya, get that_ and some of them are baffled, yelling, _weren’t you two a couple already!_ like they’re in some baseball game. _Ohmygod._

The embarrassment that he’s feeling takes its toll and so he hides on Sakusa’s chest, face squished on his jersey. He can’t help but smile though, wide and happy and _relieved_ that their team is not shouting any curses at them like what he’s imagined. They’re _supportive_ and kind and Atsumu appreciates them so much.

His team is the best team.

When they get back home that day after a team dinner with the ridiculous reason of _let’s celebrate miya and sakusa getting some_ , they shower quickly. Well, Atsumu showered while Sakusa takes his time sitting on the bathtub soaking for almost half an hour.

Atsumu, while waiting for his boyfriend, amuses himself by watching some random anime on the television, the fight scenes gripping his attention. And when Sakusa joins him, smelling clean and lavender, he only scoots a little, allowing Sakusa to settle behind him and wrap his arms around Atsumu’s waist, chin hooking on his shoulder.

“What are we watching?” Sakusa asks, pressing a kiss to Atsumu’s warm skin.

“Don’t know. But this one looks fun,” he answers, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Sakusa’s temple.

“Alright,” Sakusa whispers, smiling, leaning back onto the couch and bringing Atsumu with him. Atsumu leans on him, sighing in content.

“Didn’t you want to watch that other anime movie?” Atsumu asks, humming as he thinks of the title, struggles to remember, and gives up right away. “You know, those two witches.”

“Next time,” Sakusa says, pulls Atsumu closer to him.

Atsumu smiles, throws the remote on the couch beside them and tangles his fingers with Sakusa’s own, watching the screen, so content he feels like he’s gonna burst in happiness.

Times like this, makes Atsumu glad that they’re finally a couple. _Boyfriends. Lovers._ Because despite doing this a couple of times with Sakusa before they confessed to each other, there definitely was a large distance kept between them. Even when they were shoulder to shoulder or Atsumu’s head pillowed on Sakusa’s lap, it certainly didn’t feel like this. Right now, both of them are _secure_ in what they are and who they are to each other. It feels like the wall that they kept in between them when they were still only _fuckbuddies_ has totally disappeared, leaving them with no space and no hesitation to _reach out_.

They always reach out to each other. Be it watching movies, or eating, or sleeping, or walking, they always somehow manage to gravitate towards each other, like magnets. And perhaps it’s presumptuous of Atsumu to think this, but if he could see the red string of fate that connects both of them to each other, it would definitely be the thickest and strongest thread there exist.

“You’re not watching,” Sakusa whispers, tugging on his forefinger.

“Hmm,” Atsumu hums, blinks at the wide screen, watches the tv distractedly. “Just thinking.”

“Of what?”

“Us,” Atsumu whispers then blushes after realising what he was thinking. He can’t say that to Sakusa. Not only because it’s so… _cringe worthy_ but also Sakusa is definitely going to buy a fucking red string and tie it to their pinkies just because he’s annoying like that.

“Us, huh?” Sakusa hums. “What kind of fantasy were you thinking about this time?”

Atsumu coughs, turns to face Sakusa, cheeks red, as he denies, “I wasn’t fantasizing!”

Sakusa smirks, settles Atsumu in a more comfortable position on his lap, now facing him. “Are you sure about that.”

Atsumu pouts, “I’m not horny all the time.” He squirms then and narrows his eyes at his boyfriend, “But apparently _you are_. What the hell is this, _babe?”_ He says, grinding his hips on Sakusa’s slowly hardening cock under his shorts.

Sakusa shrugs, acting nonchalant. But his ears are red, as well as his neck, tell-tale of how embarrassed he is.

“You're... _just there_ ,” he says and Atsumu raises a brow, just a wee bit exasperated by his boyfriend. “You expect me to not get hard?”

Atsumu snorts, fingers combing Sakusa’s bangs off his forehead. “My boyfriend is a sex addict,” he sighs, long suffering.

Sakusa shrugs again, says, shameless, “My boyfriend is hot, that’s why.”

“Yer insufferable.”

“So, no?”

“Ya think I’ll miss out on sucking yer dick? No way.”

“Thought so.”

Atsumu didn’t think he’d ever end up in this situation. But here he is, ass up in the air while his mouth is stuffed with Sakusa’s hard cock. It’s a position that he was too embarrassed to do with his previous partners but now— now he thinks this could become one of his favourite positions.

They’re still on the couch and the anime they were watching earlier has automatically moved on to the next episode already. Atsumu should feel ashamed being in this position with an anime— _shounen at that!—_ playing on the huge screen but he can’t quite focus on it when his mouth is full of Sakusa’s twitching cock and his ass is accommodating two of Sakusa’s long fingers, occasionally brushing his prostate.

He moans when Sakusa adds another finger inside him, coated with more lube. Pulling back from Sakusa’s cock, he rests his cheek on his thigh, panting heavily as Sakusa twists his fingers then pumps them fast, making Atsumu let out a series of loud moans. His legs tremble beside Sakusa’s head, straining from keeping his weight from suffocating his boyfriend.

“Omi,” Atsumu whispers, thrusts his hips back to meet Sakusa’s fingers fucking his ass. “I can’t—“

“Yes, you can,” Sakusa whispers against the skin of his asscheek, patches of skin red and beginning to bruise.

“B-But,” Atsumu groans, a full on body shiver passing through his body. “My legs…”

“Sit on my face,” Sakusa says, licking Atsumu’s gaping hole.

“What.” Atsumu looks down at Sakusa in between his legs, wide eyed.

“Sit on my face, babe.” Sakusa repeats, kneading his asscheeks as he scissors his fingers inside Atsumu, punching a deep moan from him.

“But I don’t want to… You’ll suffocate… And I’m heavy…” Atsumu tries to reason even though his dick twitches at the thought of sitting on Sakusa’s face until he comes from it.

“You’re peachy, not heavy.” Sakusa grins, adds, “And I want you to suffocate me. A good way to go.”

“Omi!” Atsumu cries out, both from Sakusa’s words and his fingers teasing his prostate. It _feels so fucking good_. When Sakusa relents, back to thrusting his fingers lazily, Atsumu shudders, breathing heavy, before he says, still a bit worried, “Okay… but if you feel slightly uncomfortable… tell me. Okay?”

Sakusa pats his ass, slowly retracts his fingers, lets Atsumu arrange himself on top of him, ass in front of his face.

Atsumu covers his face with his hands, cheeks red. “Ohmygod, this is so embarrassing.”

“I eat your ass often,” Sakusa says, clutching Atsumu’s thick thighs.

“But this is different!” Atsumu cries out, spreads his fingers as he peaks out, looking down at Sakusa’s grinning face.

“How is this different? It’s the same,” Sakusa reasons, hands spreading Atsumu’s asscheeks and slapping them lightly.

Atsumu jerks, still hovering above Sakusa’s face. “I’m going to sit on you… that’s why.”

“It’s my honour,” Sakusa teases, circles his thumb around Atsumu’s wet hole.

“Fine,” Atsumu breathes in, tampers the arousal growing inside him as he lets knees drop beside Sakusa’s face and his ass on his mouth.

“Hmm,” Sakusa hums. “This peach lube smells good.” Then he swipes his tongue, “And tastes good.”

Atsumu shudders, stomach clenching as he holds on tightly on the arm of the couch.

“ _Kiyoomi_ ,” Atsumu whines, wiggles his ass. “Stop teasing.”

Sakusa chuckles, breath fanning on Atsumu’s needy hole. “Okay, okay. Come on, ‘tsumu. Ride my face like how you ride my dick.”

Atsumu nods, digs his fingers on the harsh fabric of the sofa and starts grinding his ass on Sakusa’s mouth. He moans when Sakusa spreads his asscheeks, gripping hard, and sticks his tongue inside his twitching hole, humming as he fucks Atsumu with his tongue.

Atsumu is slow for a while, making sure he doesn’t suffocate his boyfriend, but then Sakusa takes his balls inside his warm mouth, sucking and licking and Atsumu’s control snaps. He rides Sakusa’s face like how he rides his dick; grinds his ass on his willing mouth, circles his hips slowly then fast, arousal driving him crazy. Sakusa only moans, kneads his asscheeks and allows Atsumu to ride his tongue, saliva dripping down his chin and to his neck.

The sound of Sakusa moaning and sucking on his hole has Atsumu quickening his pace, ass bouncing in tandem with Sakusa’s tongue thrusting in his mouth. He takes a hold of his own cock, pumping it slowly, spreading the pre-come beading at the tip. He cries _please please_ and _moreomi more,_ riding Sakusa’s face hard.

Atsumu doesn’t know how much time passes by but he continues to ride Sakusa’s face while jerking himself off. When he can feel the knot of arousal in his stomach intensify, he lets out a loud cry, chanting _coming coming_ like a prayer.

When he’s about to come, Sakusa holds his hips tight and makes him completely sit on his face, nose and lips buried on Atsumu’s ass. Atsumu squeaks, wiggles, wanting to move but unable to, Sakusa’s grip too tight.

“Omi!”

Sakusa heaves Atsumu from his face to his lap, on top of his hard cock. He says, spit covering half of his face, “Wanna fuck you.”

Atsumu nods, plants a kiss on Sakusa’s wet lips, says, “Okay.” Then he grabs a condom from the coffee table, tears the packet and rolls it on Sakusa in one go, an expert. Sakusa groans at the action, eyes falling shut for a second. Atsumu plants a hand on Sakusa’s chest before he takes a hold of Sakusa’s cock, lining it with his wet hole. He doesn’t take it slow, like how he normally would. He’s too _horny_ for slow right now and so he drops on Sakusa’s cock without any preamble, a strangled moan falling from his lips.

Balls deep, Sakusa grips Atsumu’s hips tight, nails digging on his skin. Atsumu knows there will be a light imprint there later and he basks on that knowledge, humming as he circles his hips on Sakusa’s twitching cock inside him. He allows both of them a second to get used to each other before Atsumu starts riding his boyfriend, leaning over him and hands sliding up to flick on Sakusa’s nipples. He continues to lift his hips, tip of Sakusa’s cock inside him before dropping down, taking his big cock up to the hilt. It has Atsumu groaning every time, the vibrations of his voice felt on Sakusa’s skin as he licks and sucks, leaving his own marks on his boyfriend.

Atsumu keeps that for a couple of minutes before he becomes impatient and rides Sakusa’s dick shallowly, grinding and bouncing on his cock, moving here and there so he could hit his prostate every time he pushes back in inside Atsumu’s hole.

“‘tsumu,” Sakusa moans, grips Atsumu’s hips even harsher and fucks up into his hole faster, forcing moans after moans out of Atsumu’s parted lips. “Wanna come.”

Atsumu nods, meeting Sakusa’s fast thrusts, his legs trembling even more. When his legs give up, too tired to move, Sakusa fucks into him with shallow thrusts, clutching his body closer to himself. Atsumu arches his back, hands digging on Sakusa’s shoulders as he cries for _more harder faster omi._ His cock, hard in between their stomachs, bobs along with their movements, twitching and wet with pre-come.

Being fucked like this, body plastered tightly to his boyfriends’ and legs too tired to move, Atsumu can’t do anything but moan and groan, taking everything that Sakusa has to give him. His mouth parts in a silent scream when Sakusa pushes deeply, hitting his prostate precisely, a drop of drool slipping down his chin as he shudders and cry when Sakusa continues to abuse his prostate, thrusting shallow but deep, fucking Atsumu hard until he’s dumb and silly for his cock.

Atsumu cries, “Coming, coming.”

Sakusa mouths at his neck, tongue licking the sweat trailing down his skin. “Yeah.”

The both of them come together, Atsumu’s dick coming untouched in between their stomachs, the friction between their skin and their movements enough for it to spurt thick white liquid. Atsumu lets out a harsh shudder when he comes, his body twitching as his dick twitches and continues to drool white substance on Sakusa’s torso.

Sakusa, on the other hand, comes while digging his nails hard on Atsumu’s asscheeks, shoving his cock as far up Atsumu’s ass and coming with a loud moan on Atsumu’s neck. He thrusts a couple more times lazily, milking their release. When Atsumu stops shivering, Sakusa pulls out of his ass slowly discarding the condom on a magazine laying on top of the carpet.

Atsumu, at seeing that, giggles, voice quiet and a little hoarse, “That’s a volleyball magazine.”

Sakusa breathes in, then out, deep, trying to steady his breathing. He says after a second of pause, “I know.”

“With my face on the cover,” Atsumu continues to giggle, breaths coming shallow, still panting a little.

“I know.”

“So in a way,” Atsumu starts, wiggles his body on top of Sakusa lazily then settling his head under his chin, “You gave me a facial.”

“Filthy,” Sakusa replies but his lips is quirked into a smile, eyes soft as he tucks Atsumu’s hair behind his ear.

“Mhm,” Atsumu nods, slow. He drops a kiss on Sakusa’s collarbone, teases, “As it should be.”

Sakusa laughs, fingers caressing his back, gentle. He repeats, with finality, “As it should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me after writing this half past midnight: WORTH IT  
> hope yall like it too uwu


	15. i'll be your shelter, i'll keep you warm (baby i'm yours)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 15: MASSAGE**
>
>> “Do ya need anything else?” Atsumu asks, wanting to be of use, wanting to help his boyfriend, feeling just a little bit hopeless.
>> 
>> “No,” Sakusa turns to him, smiling, eyes amused.
>> 
>> “Water? Food? Me?” Atsumu grins, winking playfully.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **note:** hi guys! this chap mentions injury but not serious! just, typical volleyball injury ehehe and i dont know much about it so dont trust my nonexistent medical....prowess... lol also this chap has **no porn** sowwyyyy

Life isn’t always rainbows and butterflies. Sometimes some assholes up there just has to ruin your fun, give you a _vibe check_ as the kids on the internet likes to call it. Atsumu is okay with that, he doesn’t have any problem with struggling a little because it only makes him work hard and _grow_. Life, after all, is all about give and take, about fairness. _Karma_.

However, it’s different when it’s someone he cares for. He’s a pretty protective person, he has to admit. Having grown up with Osamu, the both of them looked out for each other and despite Osamu mostly wiping Atsumu’s fat tears off his face after fighting some big kids who stole his volleyball, losing in the process, it has taught them to protect each other no matter what happens and no matter how big the hurdle is. Atsumu protects Osamu and Osamu protects Atsumu. And as they grow up, gain more precious people like Aran and Suna and Kita-san, their protectiveness only grew tenfold.

This time, his most precious person got hurt. Sakusa says it’s nothing but Atsumu is like a mother hen, protective of anyone he deems _his_ and _Kiyoomi_ is his and no one is allowed to hurt him. However, accidents do happen and so Atsumu can’t do anything about it. It’s the profession that they chose, it’s _inevitable._

It’s on their second day of out of town games.

How it happened is a little bit blurry to Atsumu but what he does remember is this: the ball soaring past the net, Hinata shouting an _i got it_ , Atsumu jumping to set, and Sakusa spiking the ball like he usually does. When he lands, a beat passes before he goes down. What happened after is this; Sakusa crumbling to the floor, body hitting the surface with a sickening thud, then clutching his left ankle with a loud and pained groan, his eyes shut tightly, face marred in indescribable pain.

Atsumu doesn’t hesitate to throw the volleyball aside, runs to his boyfriend’s side with his heart in his throat, beating wildly, panicked, _frantic_.

He shouts, “Omi!”

He can hear the referee’s whistle go off and the game is on pause, Coach foster and Meian quickly coming beside Sakusa who’s brows are furrowed, dotted with cold sweat, still clutching his ankle.

“Omi,” Atsumu says, voice trembling. “What happened…”

He shuffles to the side, afraid to jostle Sakusa, least he make him feel more pain if he touches him the wrong way. He holds his breath as Coach talks to Sakusa, voice soft as he pries Sakusa’s fingers from his ankle. Their team physician holds his ankle gently before letting go and shaking his head, talking to Coach and Meian quietly.

Atsumu watches Sakusa take deep breaths, looking like the pain is subsiding a little. His eyes opens and they land immediately on Atsumu’s worried eyes, his lips trembling in worry.

Sakusa smiles a little, grunts, “I’m fine.”

Atsumu bites his lower lip, furrows his brows deeper, “Like hell you are.”

“Seriously.” Sakusa retorts, moving his feet and wincing after.

Their team physician, after seeing that, scolds Sakusa, tells him to _don’t move a lot_ _or you’ll make it worse_ and hearing that, Atsumu glares at Sakusa, his eyes blazing in anger.

“Liar,” Atsumu hisses, points at his boyfriend. “You better come back after or I’ll break up with you.”

Sakusa laughs, along with Meian. He replies, “I will. Promise.”

After that, they take Sakusa off the court, helped by their teammates, and brings him to the infirmary. Atsumu doesn’t dwell much on anything else but finishing the game quickly. He doesn’t become reckless though because he’s professional, he’s past allowing emotions to affect his sets. Instead, they score points after points, he sets even better, Hinata and Bokuto’s spikes are even harder. When they win, Sakusa is sitting on the bench, compression wrap around his left ankle, smiling at the congratulatory cheer from the team. And upon seeing him, Atsumu quickly runs to him.

He pouts, says, “You promised to come back.”

Sakusa smiles, tilts his head, “I did. I’m here.”

“I meant the court!” Atsumu exclaims, exasperated.

“I will. Eventually.” Sakusa says, voice reassuring.

“Okay.” Atsumu nods, squints at his ankle, then repeats. “Okay.”

* * *

It is not okay.

Coach foster, when they get back to the gym, Sakusa limping beside Atsumu, an arm around his shoulder, supporting him, he informs them of Sakusa’s accident. It is not uncommon to sprain one’s ankle while playing volleyball; in fact, it’s one of the most common reason in volleyball injury. It’s just that— rehabilitation is pretty long and Sakusa is going to have to take a rest, heal is ankle, for eight weeks or so and Atsumu fucking _hates_ that.

No matter how inevitable it is, it still makes him _mad_. Sakusa loves volleyball and it’s one of the things that both of them truly treasure and yet, here he is, on his sofa, ankle perched on the coffee table, on top of a throw pillow as he watches Atsumu pacing on the floor.

“Aren’t ya… I don’t know… Sad?” Atsumu asks, combing his hand through his hair.

Sakusa shrugs, pats the spot beside him. “It’s fine, ‘tsumu. This is pretty normal.”

“But eight weeks!” Atsumu shouts, lips trembling as he pauses on pacing on the carpeted floor, barefoot.

“And it will pass by quickly. I’ll still join practice and watch you miss your serves.” Sakusa replies, tone steady, always levelheaded.

“But we have a game with Adlers next month.” Atsumu whispers as he plops beside Sakusa, lips formed in a pout. “I want us to play and win together.”

Sakusa pulls him close, hand coming to the nape of his neck, rubbing soothingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a lot of chance to do that once I recover.” He presses a kiss on Atsumu’s lips, murmurs, “Okay?”

Atsumu sighs in defeat, nodding. He then looks at Sakusa’s ankles and frowns, “Is it painful?”

“Just a little,” Sakusa admits, offering a small smile.

“If it gets more painful, tell me, okay?” Atsumu looks at him, eyes swimming in worry. He cups Sakusa’s cheek, gentle, as he says, “Let me take care of you, Kiyoomi.”

Sakusa nods, rubs his nose with Atsumu’s own, “It’s only a couple of weeks but— I’ll be in your care, Atsumu.” He then moves a little, wincing as he jostles his ankle. Atsumu is quick to offer his hand for help but Sakusa only smiles at him, a little strained. “I’m okay.”

“Just let me help,” Atsumu huffs and takes the pillow when Sakusa lifts his legs, putting it on the sofa, Sakusa’s back leaning on the arm of the couch this time. Once he’s comfortable, Atsumu settles behind him, squishing his body between Sakusa and the couch. “Alright?”

Sakusa hums, nods, “Perfect.”

“Do ya need anything else?” Atsumu asks, wanting to be of use, wanting to help his boyfriend, feeling just a little bit hopeless.

“No,” Sakusa turns to him, smiling, eyes amused.

“Water? Food? Me?” Atsumu grins, winking playfully.

Sakusa snorts, rolls his eyes, “You know I’ll always need you, right?”

Atsumu’s cheeks blooms into a blush at hearing those words. He huffs, reaches out and combs his hand through Sakusa’s dark hair.

“Yer such a sap,” Atsumu says, fingers rubbing Sakusa’s ear. Sakusa leans into his touch, eyes closing momentarily, the picture perfect of content.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

Atsumu continues to rub his ear before his hand trails down to his neck, massaging the muscle there. Sakusa hums at his actions, leaning into his touch, body relaxing against his.

“Omi, do you want a massage?” Atsumu asks as he kneads Sakusa’s clothed shoulders with his thumbs, pushing on the skin, hard but careful.

“Hmm,” Sakusa lets his head drop on Atsumu’s shoulders, his back leaning on Atsumu’s chest. Atsumu pauses on massaging him, wraps his arms around Sakusa’s waist and nuzzles his neck.

They’re quiet for a while, just basking in each other, the warmth they share. The room is quiet, television off, them opting to listen nothing but white nose, comfortable. Outside, it’s drizzling, the multiple lights from the neighbouring buildings a blur through the glass windows. Atsumu loves moments like this, the comfortable silence that envelopes them, their hearts thudding in tandem, their bodies relaxed in each other’s embrace. It’s one of the moments he treasures the most.

“So?” Atsumu asks after a few minutes, cheek pressed to Sakusa’s own. He feels more than sees the smile that quirks on his lips, making Atsumu smile himself.

“Sure,” Sakusa sits up then groans, wincing, rubbing his thigh, trying to alleviate the pain shooting up from his ankle.

“Be careful, Omi!” Atsumu slaps his back, like hurting him more would make Sakusa move less.

Sakusa laughs, turns to Atsumu, “Stop worrying. I’m okay. The doctor said it’ll take only a month tops for me to be able to walk. I’ll just have to rehabilitate after.”

“Still,” Atsumu pouts, drops his forehead against Sakusa’s back. “Please, just… listen to me.”

“Okay, babe,” Sakusa takes his hands, squeezing in comfort. “Now, where’s my massage?”

Atsumu perks up quickly, lips formed into a wide grin as he jumps off from the couch, shouting a _wait there! don’t move!_ as he runs to their bedroom and quickly comes back with a small bottle.

“Got this,” He shows Sakusa the bottle of massage oil, settling behind him once again. This time, Sakusa scoots a little lower, careful with his ankle, giving Atsumu more space to move behind him.

“Where’d you get that from?” Sakusa asks, pulling his shirt off without being told to.

“Bought it. Thought it would be nice to use sometimes,” Atsumu grins, wiggles his eyebrows suggestively even though Sakusa can’t see him.

“I see,” Sakusa says, contemplating, then adds, “So you already planned this beforehand.”

“Hm?” Atsumu hums a small sound, distracted with pouring a little oil on his hands, warming them before rubbing his hands on Sakusa’s back. “Well— Kind of but without yer injury. This is good too though, this way, no funny business.” He answers, fingers spreading the oil on the expanse of Sakusa’s bare skin.

Sakusa lets out a hum when Atsumu kneads the nape of his neck, gentle as he presses on the skin. Atsumu listens to his hum, letting that wash over him, smiling as he watches Sakusa’s back muscle ripple deliciously. He continues to massage downwards, to Sakusa’s shoulder, giving attention to the spot he was massaging earlier. His fingers presses hardly and Sakusa flinches before letting out a groan, shoulders relaxing under Atsumu’s careful ministrations.

Belatedly, Atsumu realises that them doing this feels more intimate than actually having sex. Of course, sex is good and he trusts Sakusa with whatever he does to his body but being like this, just innocent touching without all that sexual tension that’s always simmering between them, it feels more… domestic, the kind of thing that old married couples would do. Maybe they _did_ enter the old married couple phase. _Huh_.

Atsumu massages Sakusa’s shoulders a few minutes more before moving on to his shoulder blades. He pauses, pours more oil on his hands, and resumes massaging Sakusa’s back. Atsumu is no expert when it comes to massaging but him and Osamu did use to give each other massages when their backs hurt, especially after a long game, wanting to alleviate the pain in their muscles and the stress that the game brought from their bodies. Sometimes, they end up wrestling, not even finishing anything and sometimes, one of them falls asleep, soothed by their brother’s touch.

It’s this experience that he uses when pressing his fingers on Sakusa’s shoulder blades, massaging the knots that are there, careful with not pressing too much, else he hurt Sakusa. Sakusa’s head sags to the front, his lips letting out content sighs when Atsumu slides his fingers down his spine, rubbing up and down, allowing the rhythm to lull them in this comfortable space they’re in.

Here, in this room, with both of them quiet, the outside world barred from interrupting them, it’s comfortable, and Atsumu can feel a blanket of warmth envelope him, so content with just massaging Sakusa’s back, loving the soft sounds that he lets out because of Atsumu.

“Ya awake?” Atsumu squeezes Sakusa’s biceps, hands still wet with oil. He presses kisses on both of Sakusa’s shoulder blades, now tracing circles on his skin instead of massaging.

“Yeah,” Sakusa replies, flexes his back, righting his posture. “That felt good.”

Atsumu grins, pressing more kisses on Sakusa’s back, up and down his spine and to the jutting bone of his collarbone.

“My hands are magic,” Atsumu replies, shifting around. He climbs from the couch quietly then settles in between Sakusa’s legs. He then cups his chin, Sakusa scrunching his nose at the oil still covering it, now staining his face. “It’s not deadly,” Atsumu says at seeing his boyfriend’s reaction. “Just wanna see your face.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa leans on Atsumu’s touch, pliant and soft, the expression on his face content, like all the stress and worries he had before fell from his shoulders.

Atsumu presses a kiss on his lips, close mouthed, both gagging at the taste of the oil. “Gross.”

“And yet, you still kissed me.” Sakusa shakes his head, looking at Atsumu fondly.

“You kissed me back,” Atsumu retorts, “Take two to tango.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, “Right.”

Atsumu glances down at Sakusa’s crotch, raises an eyebrow at the obvious tent, offers, “Want some help?”

Sakusa shakes his head, grabs Atsumu, burying his head on the crook of Atsumu’s neck. “It’s fine. Not today. I just want to hold you.”

Atsumu hugs him back, shifts a little, careful with Sakusa’s injury. “Yeah, me too,” he replies, pressing a kiss on Sakusa’s neck.

“I like you,” Sakusa confesses, words tumbling out of his lips in a soft whisper.

Atsumu holds him close, tighter, replies, “I like ya too.”

And they stay like that for a while, holding each other. Atsumu thinks _this is it_ , he can see his future like this, with Sakusa in his arms, wrapped up in him. When Atsumu closes his eyes, he can imagine the next ten years, even twenty years, them sitting on this same couch, saying the same words, holding each other with the same intensity.

It makes Atsumu smile, happy.

So he says, “You make me happy.”

Sakusa presses a kiss on his forehead then on his lips, mouths, “You make me the happiest.”

“Sap.”

“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter we're back to crackhead shenanigans and porn!!! eheehehehe  
>  **ps:** ill reply to comments tomorrow! thank you for continuing to like this fic!!! i love you all so much 🥺💕💖


	16. can't get enough of you (i'm all yours)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 15: INTERCRURAL SEX/STOCKINGS**
>
>> Sakusa snorts out a laugh, shaking his head, “You’d kick an injured guy?”
>> 
>> “Yes,” Atsumu frowns then pouts. “If it’s you.”
> 
> **\+ updated tags!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehe,,,,,,,i think twt talks too much abt atsumu's thighs and this one is just,, atsumu thighs brainrot brr

Let it be known that Atsumu might be a little—sometimes a lot—shameless and he doesn’t mind experimenting some kinks with his beloved boyfriend. However, there are just some things that— are hard to swallow; one of them is Sakusa’s monster dick, another is half-cooked rice, and third is wearing _this._

_This_ referring to stockings that for some reason fits the length of his legs perfectly. Well, Sakusa _did_ buy it on the internet on one of those days that he’s bored off his mind while sitting on the bench, watching Atsumu and their teammates practice. Atsumu knows because Sakusa told him, albeit indirectly, the shameless man that he is.

He says, when Atsumu inquires about the stockings on his hands, “I was bored and saw a drawing of you on _twitter_ wearing stockings. I wanted to see it in real life.”

Atsumu sputters, clutches the… offending fabric, “Why were ya even on twitter!”

Sakusa blinks at him, like an innocent child, just sitting there, innocently. Atsumu wants to strangle him or maybe make _him_ wear the stockings. That’ll teach him.

“I was researching,” Sakusa replies after a beat of consideration. Liar.

“Researching what,” Atsumu cocks a brow, hips cocking to the side as he calls out his boyfriend’s bullshit.

“Art of you,” he grins, mischief in his eyes. “You know, your fans are so creative. Sometimes they draw you as fox and sometimes they draw you with lingerie.”

Atsumu can’t help but blush, holds the stockings tighter like the piece of fabric has offended him personally. It hasn’t. Contrary, it interests Atsumu since that time he was forced by the girls in his class to wear a maid outfit for their school festival. _Maid Cafe_ , they said. _It’ll be fun,_ they said. Absolute bullshit. The only consolation to wearing _that_ outfit was that Osamu had to do it too and so there exist a picture, somewhere in this earth, with the both of them on maid outfits, wearing white thigh high stockings and cat ears.

Atsumu shudders at the memory. He promised to never do it again. But now, his horny boyfriend is asking him to wear it. Just like that. No preamble. No sugar coating. Just a,

“Babe, will you wear this?” Cue stockings suddenly on Atsumu’s hands.

And so here Atsumu is, preventing himself from strangling his injured boyfriend and instead takes a deep breath, brushes his thumb on the soft fabric of the stockings, allows himself to relax.

It’s not that he _hates_ the thought of wearing stockings. A lot of people wears stockings and to Atsumu, stockings are just the thinner version of a skintight training leggings. It’s no big deal. It doesn’t mean Sakusa wants him in feminine clothes or a maid outfit or a lingerie.

But there lays the problem. Atsumu _is_ interested in lingerie. No, he has never tried it. Yes, he wants to. No, he’s never told anyone about it. Yes, he’s embarrassed to admit that perhaps, the soft feeling of thigh highs or stockings, along with perhaps frilly panties, _would_ make his dick hard faster than anyone could. Sakusa is a contender, he’ll leave it at that.

“‘tsumu?”

Atsumu jerks, realizes he’s gone off to lalala land, shakes his head a little to clear his mind and bites his lower lip, looking down at the stockings.

“I don’t know…” Atsumu whispers, blush creeping high up his cheeks.

If he does wear this, would Sakusa like it? Or would he end up laughing at Atsumu’s face? Would he tell anyone and make fun of him? Atsumu doesn’t want that. Doesn’t like thinking of Sakusa laughing _at_ him.

“Babe,” Sakusa gestures for him to come closer, so Atsumu does, sits beside the pillow where Sakusa’s injured feet lays. Sakusa reaches for his hands, the stockings left laying on his lap. He says, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I was just— curious. I think… it would look good on you. But if you don’t like it, then let’s just forget it, yeah?”

Atsumu takes a deep breath, letting it out with a small laugh. He can’t believe he’d thought of _his Omi_ making fun of him because of stockings. Why would his boyfriend even give him stockings if he’s going to make fun of Atsumu? Atsumu, for a moment there, let his insecurity almost ruin what looks like a fun experience to have. He’s _so_ stupid. Sakusa is most likely telling the truth; that he wants to see Atsumu in stockings because he _loves_ Atsumu’s thighs, shown by how often he marks the skin there. Atsumu shouldn’t have doubted him, shouldn’t have thought of those negative things because _when_ did his boyfriend make fun of something that he likes? Never. Sakusa is the most supportive boyfriend one could have and thankfully, he’s together with Atsumu.

Giggling, Atsumu squeezes Sakusa’s hands and leans in, planting a quick kiss on his boyfriends lips before he says, “Sorry, sorry. My mind almost had me there.” Sakusa cocks a brow at him, then shrugs. He knows Atsumu will tell him later. “This is kind of… sudden.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Sakusa smiles at him, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles.

Atsumu shakes his head, tugging his hands off Sakusa’s hold and takes the stockings. He unravels the fabric, finding it to be black thigh highs, sheer and soft.

“This feels nice,” Atsumu admits, rubbing his fingers on the fabric.

He can feel Sakusa watching him, studying his expression. Atsumu doesn’t falter, allows Sakusa to interpret his expressions.

“You like it,” Sakusa says, matter-of-fact.

Atsumu hums, stretches the hem of the stocking, humming at the durability. He then turns to Sakusa, shrugging, a small shy smile on his lips.

“I guess?”

“Oh.”

“Do ya— still want me to wear it?” Atsumu chews on his lower lip, hesitant, heart thudding inside his ribcage.

Sakusa quickly nods, jerking his head a couple of times, eager. “Yes, of course.”

Atsumu giggles at his enthusiasm, stands from the couch as he says, “Hmm, well. Let me go change. Wait here.”

“Yes, sir.” Sakusa salutes jokingly, lips pulled into a happy grin.

Atsumu rolls his eyes at him before he disappears into the bedroom, changing into the stockings.

The thing with wearing something so soft and _fragile_ is that, it _tears_ and now Atsumu is wearing the stockings with a tear on the side, on _both_ of the thigh highs. What the hell. But it looks somehow— seductive, adds to the allure of wearing stockings with nothing but his boxers and Sakusa’s oversized hoodie that, of course, Atsumu has borrowed— _stolen_ —from his boyfriend’s closet.

Atsumu turns here and there in front of the mirror for a few minutes, squinting at how the ends of the stockings squish his thighs. He wiggles his toes as he faces front, pulls the oversized hoodie even lower and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks— well, not _that_ different but _still_ different since he’s wearing thigh high stockings that compliments his skin a lot and fits just perfectly on his thick thighs. If Atsumu may say so himself, he looks _ravishing_. Ha.

With that thought, he turns from his reflection, skips to the door and leisurely walks to the living room where Sakusa is waiting for him. When he turns the corner, finally on perfect view to his boyfriend, he hears a choking sound then a gasp. He laughs at Sakusa’s expression, steps soft on the carpeted floor.

“So?” Atsumu stands still in front of Sakusa, grinning. “Whatcha think, OmiOmi?”

Sakusa stares at him intently, eyes dark, scrutinising, taking in Atsumu’s figure. A few beat passes before Atsumu hums then allows his hand to rub the hem of the stockings, watching and grinning as Sakusa follows his actions, mouth open, almost drooling.

“Omi?” Atsumu whispers, snaps the fabric against his skin, the sound loud and clear.

That breaks Sakusa out of his reverie or fantasies, whichever. Atsumu finds it amusing, how his boyfriend’s brain just— stops working in the face of Atsumu wearing something simple as stockings. He wonders for a moment if Sakusa is going to foam in the mouth if Atsumu ever wears lingerie. That would be _funny_.

“U-Uh,” Sakusa stutters, blinks his eyes as he trails his gaze up Atsumu’s legs and stops there, eyes zoning in on the fabric squishing Atsumu’s thighs. “Y-You… look good,” he tells Atsumu’s thighs, licking his lips.

Atsumu laughs, endeared at his boyfriend’s reaction. _Cute_.

“Hey. Eyes up here,” Atsumu snaps his fingers, the sound actually making Sakusa snap his eyes up to meet Atsumu’s own. “You’re such a horny man.”

“Horny for you,” Sakusa replies, quick, shameless.

Atsumu continues to laugh, shifting his legs here and there and watches as Sakusa’s eyes switch from looking down to up like he’s reading subtitles while watching an english movie.

“You’re shameless,” Atsumu accuses, wide grin on his face.

Sakusa shrugs, unbothered, “I guess I am.”

Atsumu doesn’t say anything more, only steps closer to Sakusa, pausing beside the couch before he crawls between Sakusa’s legs, kneeling in front of him. Sakusa follows his actions, smiling, and when Atsumu is in front of him, he reaches out and trails his fingers up his thighs, under the oversized hoodie where the ends of the thigh high stockings are hidden. Atsumu lets him touch, just kneeling there, sitting on his heels, arousal simmering inside of him.

When Sakusa’s hands palms his cock, Atsumu takes in a deep breath, jerking a little. He wraps his arms around Sakusa’s neck, burying his face on the crook and inhaling his intoxicating scent. Atsumu thrusts up when Sakusa starts to pump his cock under his underwear, the front wet with his pre-come. He’s almost fully hard, cock twitching and wanting attention.

“Omi,” Atsumu moans against his skin then sucks a bruise on it, tongue soothing the red skin after.

“Let’s switch,” Sakusa says, still palming Atsumu’s cock.

Atsumu pulls back from his neck, bites his lips, his brows furrowing. He twitches when Sakusa thumbs at his cockhead, the soft fabric of his boxers a delicious friction on his cock.

“But your ankle—“

“It’s okay. It’s been two weeks,” Sakusa assures, hand leaving Atsumu’s cock, making him whine. “Come on. Want to see you under me.”

Atsumu nods after a beat of consideration. He doesn’t want to hurt his boyfriend but it’s true that Sakusa’s ankle is healing properly, allowing him to limp from the living room to the bedroom without crutches or any help.

“Okay,” Atsumu whispers, then hardens his eyes, quickly adding, “But if I see you look even a little uncomfortable, I’ll kick you.”

Sakusa snorts out a laugh, shaking his head, “You’d kick an injured guy?”

“Yes,” Atsumu frowns then pouts. “If it’s you.”

“Alright, alright,” Sakusa pulls him into a soft kiss, peppering kisses on his lips. “I will. Don’t worry too much.”

“Hmpf,” Atsumu huffs, lets his body fall backward on their huge couch and waits for his boyfriend to carefully change his own position. And while he’s waiting, Atsumu lifts his legs, slips a finger under the hem of his stocking that’s now bunched against his thighs. He fixes them, snapping the fabric against his skin with a soft sound.

“You’re teasing me,” Sakusa says, grabs Atsumu’s ankles and lays them on his shoulders as he kneels in between Atsumu’s legs. He lightly bites on Atsumu’s calf, tongue soothing the skin after, wetting the stocking.

Atsumu hums a pleased moan, a smile on his lips as he watches Sakusa suck a bruise on his inner thigh.

“I wasn’t,” Atsumu says, an obvious lie. He doesn’t try to make it sound _true_ because there isn’t any point to. He likes teasing Sakusa and he does it any chance he gets.

“What a liar,” Sakusa grins against his thigh, all teeth, mischievous. He bites the skin hard this time, eliciting a deep groan from Atsumu, body twitching at the pain shooting up his spine.

“Omi,” Atsumu breathes, eyes fluttering as he blinks at Sakusa on top of him. “Hurt.”

“Hmm, you like it,” Sakusa says and Atsumu hits his back with the heel of his feet.

“I do,” Atsumu admits, a little sheepish. “But it doesn’t mean you have to do it where people see them!” He huffs, glaring at his boyfriend.

“Pest repellant,” Sakusa deadpans, like that explains the bruises littering Atsumu’s thighs.

“You’re a vampire,” Atsumu grunts, clenching his fists beside him as Sakusa stretches the hem of his stocking, dipping his tongue inside. It feels oddly arousing, the way Sakusa’s tongue licks a stripe at where the fabric once squished Atsumu’s thigh.

Sakusa doesn’t say anything more, pre-occupied by running his hands up and down Atsumu’s thighs, nails scrapping against the fabric of the stocking while his lips mouths at the skin slowly being revealed as he slowly rolls the thigh highs down Atsumu’s legs.

Atsumu could only watch, eyes half-lidded and filled with lust. His mouth is parted, panting heavily, a little drool slipping down the corner of his lips. He watches as Sakusa stretches his legs before bending over him, eyes widening when his knees hit the space beside his head. The strain on his legs is familiar, can’t even be called _strain_ because it’s so easy for his body to fold like this, muscles not even protesting.

“You’re so hot, ‘tsumu,” Sakusa whispers as he ruts his clothed cock against Atsumu’s own clothed ass. “So fucking hot.” He punctuates the words with every thrusts, forcing loud moans from Atsumu’s lips.

Atsumu shudders when on the next thrusts, it’s Sakusa’s bare cock sliding up and down the crease of his ass. His hole twitches and his mouth waters, wanting that cock inside him. He wraps his arms around Sakusa’s neck when he thrusts a bit harder, cock now rubbing against Atsumu’s own. Atsumu can feel Sakusa’s cock slide between his thighs, the friction smooth, _hot_.

“O-Omi,” Atsumu breathes, pulls Sakusa’s face closer to his. He kisses him deeply, tongue tangling with each other’s, teeth clacking as they kiss desperately, spit slipping down Atsumu’s chin. When they pull back, panting heavily, Atsumu says, “Fuck my thighs.”

Sakusa nods and fucks up into his clothed ass a few more times before allowing Atsumu’s thighs to fall beside him, the stockings bunched up just bellow his knees. He pulls a bottle of lube from under the coffee table before drizzling it in between Atsumu’s thighs, spreading the liquid generously. Atsumu hisses at the cold liquid meeting his warm skin, legs twitching a little. He wiggles his toes under the stockings and watches as Sakusa pulls the stockings up his legs once again, fixing them even higher up his thighs. Atsumu lets him do anything, breathing heavily as Sakusa kneads his thighs, fingers digging on the skin, slick with lube, slippery and filthy.

“Is your ankle—“ Atsumu tries to ask when Sakusa gathers his legs together and settles it on top of his right shoulder, his legs tightly closed.

“Fine. Good. Never been better.” Sakusa grunts before sliding his cock in between Atsumu’s thighs slowly, his expression one of bliss.

Atsumu clenches his thighs when Sakusa’s cock breaches between them, moaning loudly, cock twitching and drooling pre-come under his boxers.

Sakusa gives them a moment to breathe before he moves and when he moves, he moves _fast_ and hard, his cock slipping in and out between Atsumu’s plush and slicked thighs. Atsumu lets out groan, moving his hips to meet Sakusa’s thrusts, his hand slipping under his boxers to jerk his cock off. He follows Sakusa’s thrusts, pumping his cock in the same pace while meeting his hard thrusts. Sakusa’s cock catch on the hem of his thigh highs every time he slips in between his thighs, the delicious drag against his skin making Atsumu even more aroused.

“God,” Sakusa mouths on his clothed leg. “You’re so good for me.” Then he bites where the fabric has a rip, teeth sinking on Atsumu’s skin. It’s not enough to make him bleed but it’s enough to make a mean bruise that would last for over a week.

Atsumu can only cry at the sensation, mind going numb as Sakusa fucks his thighs even harder, the tip of his cock brushing Atsumu’s own cock. It feels _so good._ Atsumu continues to stroke his cock faster, fingers tight around his hard shaft.

They stay like that for a long while, Sakusa fucking his thighs hard and fast, like he’s too impatient to come. He keeps on whispering _so pretty. for me. tsumu_ and Atsumu, hearing those words, can only let out moans loud enough to fill the room, along with the squelch of Sakusa’s cock every time he pushes in and pulls out.

When Sakusa’s movements grow frantic, Atsumu tightens his thighs even more, clenching his muscles as Sakusa slips in between them, wet and obscene and just fucking filthy. He watches as Sakusa’s brows furrow, eyes trained on his cock slipping in and out of Atsumu’s thighs. He then lifts his gaze, up to Atsumu’s face, with mouth slack, eyes teary, and blonde bangs matted to his sweaty forehead.

Sakusa groans, deep and desperate, “Coming.”

Atsumu nods, tightens his fingers around his cock. “Me too.”

Sakusa comes first, moaning loudly as his body shudders on top of Atsumu, gripping Atsumu’s thighs tightly as he comes in between Atsumu’s thick thighs, the white liquid smearing on the stockings and on Atsumu’s boxers, even on the hoodie.

Atsumu comes after a few more strokes, his hands tight around his cock as it spurts against his stomach and boxers. He lets out a couple of moans, body shivering at the sensation of finally _coming_. It feels amazing.

Sakusa carefully settles Atsumu’s legs on the couch, massaging his thighs and smearing the come lingering there. After that, they don’t move for a while, breathing heavily, trying to calm their hearts.

After a few minutes, Atsumu reaches out and wipes his come smeared hand in front of his hoodie, making Sakusa scrunch his nose and grumble about ruining it.

Atsumu giggles, “You’ll buy me a new one, anyway.”

Sakusa grunts before smiling and leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Atsumu’s lips. “That’s true,” he says against Atsumu’s mouth.

“Sugar da—“

Before Atsumu can finish what he wants to say, Sakusa’s front door opens with a bang and a feminine voice echoes around the room.

“Kiyoomi, I’m here to take care of you.”

Atsumu watches as Sakusa’s eyes widen and slowly, like he’s afraid, he lifts his head up and looks at the two women standing in front of them.

“Mom,” Sakusa breathes, then adds, “ _Onee-san.”_

Atsumu wants to facepalm or die.

_What the fuck_. Kill him now.

Atsumu scrambles to sit up quickly, almost hitting Sakusa’s chin with his movements. Sakusa’s hands lands on his waist when he almost tips over and fall off the couch. Atsumu doesn’t know how he looks right now but he definitely doesn’t look presentable. He’s got Sakusa’s spit on his mouth and come on his stomach and _ohmygod_ stockings on his thighs that the two fashionably dressed women in front of them can surely see.

_Ohmygod_.

“Oh,” The older woman—his boyfriend’s _mom_ —breathes out. And then, a smile blooms on her face as she says, “Kiyoomi, who’s your friend? Ah—“ She looks between them then at their position. “Or maybe boyfriend?”

“ _Mom.”_ Sakusa moans, almost sounding like he’s in pain.

“Little brother, you didn’t tell us about your new beau. Or is this the playtoy everyone’s talking about?”

_Oh._

Well.

Atsumu thinks he just wants to go home right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO. peace out xoxo  
>  **ps:** thanks and creds to stella @ twt for talking sakusa mom and atsumu interaction with me 🥺that inspired me a lot 🥺💖


	17. if you wanna do it freaky (put it on me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 17: EXHIBITIONISM**
>
>> “Don’t curse at your mother,” Aiko-san scolds, but there’s no bite in her words, just fondness for her son.
>> 
>> “You’re embarrassing me,” Sakusa grumbles, hiding his face in the crook of Atsumu’s neck.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: 22/10  
>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** INCEST (spoiler: sakusa’s sister sees/watches them fucking)  
> as of 22/10: im revising this chapter so please be careful!!!  
> ///  
> ahahaha pure humor here,,,,,,, hc that sakusa is like that bc his fam tiring af lmao jkjk but hope yall enjoy!!!!

Normally, meeting the family of one’s boyfriend should be discussed and planned carefully. It’s not an easy affair and most of the time, it doesn’t go _that_ well. Especially when it comes to rich families. The amount of Korean dramas that Atsumu has consumed isn’t as big as Osamu, preferring anime instead, but he does sit beside Osamu sometimes and watch as an ugly duckling becomes a pretty princess just because a prince has fallen in love with her. Then the prince’s family hates her and well, nothing really goes right.

What Atsumu is trying to say is that this shouldn’t have happened; he is not in a Korean drama, his life is not as entertaining as that but he’s really starting to think otherwise, what with being caught by his boyfriend’s mother _and_ sister after just having orgasmed, dressed inappropriately.

 _Fuck_.

And then comes the insults. Honestly, Atsumu hasn’t forgotten about them yet, it still nags at him that there are people out there who thinks of him as— what, a sugar baby? A whore? A gold-digger? It bothers him that their opinion of him is based on gossip and they actually _believe_ it, idiots that they are.

For a moment there, Atsumu wants to crawl into a hole and stay there for a century or two, just so he can nurse the hurt and embarrassment of being called a _plaything_ by Sakusa’s sister. But he isn’t those titles, he realises. And so he smiles at them, feigning confidence even though he’s nervous and his lips are trembling, and his hands are nervously clenching and unclenching on his lap.

Upon hearing his sister’s words, Sakusa spits, tone filled with disgust, “He isn’t my _plaything_. He is my boyfriend, _Shiomi_ o _nee-san._ Watch your words. _”_

His sister, with two moles under her right eye and one mole on the top of her left upper lip, cocks a brow, eyes as dark as Sakusa’s.

“Oh?” Shiomi _onee-san_ inquires, tone condescending. She looks at them pointedly, knowing perfectly well what they’ve been doing just a few moments ago.

“Y-Yeah,” Atsumu answers, nodding as he fidgets with the hem of his hoodie, pulling it on top of his hands, feeling so nervous he feels like _vomiting_.

“Kiyoomi, that’s wonderful!” Sakusa’s mother exclaims, stepping past the _genkan_ and walking to them with a huge smile on her face.

Atsumu, for some reason, thought that the moles must be inherited from Sakusa’s father but looking at his mother now, freckles on her beautiful face and a few moles littered here and there, including a perfect copy of Sakusa’s unique beauty moles on his forehead, Atsumu now have a clear clue where Sakusa has gotten that trait from. His mother is so beautiful, in that way when women take care of themselves properly and ends up just— aging nicely or not aging _at all_.

When she reaches them, she looks at them with a glint in her eyes, clearly amused at their reaction. Atsumu doesn’t know what face Sakusa is making but Atsumu knows his and he’s making an _ugly_ face; jaw slacked, eyes wide, hair a mess, outfit not family friendly and so on. He wants a hole to swallow him, really.

“So you’re our baby’s boyfriend?” She asks, looking at Atsumu with a sweet smile.

Atsumu recovers his bearings, remembers the last time a woman smiled at him like that, and suddenly becomes cautious. Because rich people are full of deceit, especially the ones Atsumu has met.

“Uhm,” Atsumu licks his lips, feels Sakusa’s arms wind around his waist, grabbing his hands and squeezing comfortingly. He takes a deep breath then nods, smiling politely, “Yeah, I am. Miya Atsumu, nice to meet you, _ma’am._ ” He bows his head, respectful because despite how messy he looks right now, he wants to at least give a good first impression. Or maybe second.

“Ah, nothing of that. Just call me Aiko or _mother_ ,” She replies, waving her hand nonchalantly, smile staying on her face.

“A-Aiko- _san_ ,” Atsumu stutters, flushing, embarrassed.

“Just call her _mother_ , she likes that,” Sakusa says, propping his chin on Atsumu’s shoulders.

“And?” Shiomi finally joins them, plopping on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island, her eyes studying them carefully. “Was he the reason you left Tokyo for Osaka?”

Sakusa scoffs, hold on Atsumu getting tighter, “As if. I came here to play volleyball. Being with Atsumu is much a surprise to me as it is to you.”

Shiomi rolls her eyes, looks at their mother. “ _Mother_ , you believe him?”

“Of course, Shiomi. And even if Kiyoomi moved to Osaka for Atsumu here, can you blame him? Look at him!” Aiko- _san_ exclaims. Then she reaches out and pinches Atsumu’s cheek which made Atsumu jerk in surprise, eyes wide as he looks at her, disbelief colouring his face. She laughs, squishes his cheek again, “Ah, I wish Kiyoomi is this cute. He’s always got a frown, you know. On that expressionless face of his. He only smiles when he watches or play volleyball. But I know Atsumu is different, your face is so expressive.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Atsumu blinks, doesn’t know what to say.

“ _Mother_ , can you please let him go. You’re scaring him,” Sakusa says, pulling Atsumu away from his mother.

“What a killjoy,” Aiko- _san_ rolls her eyes, almost a copy of Kiyoomi’s. It’s endearing, how alike they are.

Atsumu giggles, the once nervous lump stuck in his throat disappearing along with the shame he’s felt at being seen in a less than innocent position.

The three Sakusa’s look at him, like he’s grown two heads or has finally snapped, has turned crazy and on his way to some ward. But Atsumu is just _relieved_ that no one is calling him a _playtoy_ again and that the smiles that he’s getting isn’t _fake_. Perhaps that time at the gala has traumatised him just a little, made him watch out for who’s got it out for him or who’s actually genuine. And this, facing the most respected person in Sakusa’s life, he feels his heart stutter into a happy beat, fear gone, forgotten.

“Is your boyfriend okay? Did you fuck him too hard or—?” Shiomi asks, looking at Atsumu, confused.

Hearing that, Atsumu snaps his attention to her, blush rising up his cheeks immediately. He opens his mouth to say something, doesn’t know what to say when he does, so he closes it back again.

“Shiomi, don’t be crude. Even if Kiyoomi did so, it won’t make Atsumu crazy,” Aiko- _san_ says then raises a brow at her son. “Or— maybe…?”

“ _Mother_ , holy shit,” Sakusa whispers, his ears as bright as Atsumu’s cheeks. Actually his cheeks might be pinkish too.

“Don’t curse at your mother,” Aiko- _san_ scolds, but there’s no bite in her words, just fondness for her son.

“You’re embarrassing me,” Sakusa grumbles, hiding his face in the crook of Atsumu’s neck.

“You’re doing that perfectly by yourself already. Look at you. Injured but still so horny. Reminds me of your middle school days,” Shiomi retorts, smirk on her face.

Atsumu looks at her, eyes almost sparkling at the mention of _middle school days_ because he’s never heard anything from anyone about Sakusa’s middle school days. Except about him being a promising volleyball player already, one of the best in Tokyo.

“Oh, right?” Aiko- _san_ grins, her hand on Atsumu pulling back as she joins her daughter by the bar, giving Atsumu and Sakusa a some privacy. She continues as she removes her purse from her person and plops it on the bar counter, “I kept the box of magazines under your bed, Kiyoomi. But I don’t think you’ll need them anytime soon with Atsumu here.”

Magazines?! It means what Atsumu thinks it means, right?

“Omi,” Atsumu starts, a smirk identical to those of his boyfriend’s mother and sister painted on his face. “Really?”

“Kill me now,” Sakusa grumbles against Atsumu’s neck, flushing deeper.

“Nu-uh, ya have to show me! When we visit Tokyo again, ya have to—” Atsumu pauses, turns to Aiko- _san_ , suddenly nervous. “U-Uhm, of course, only if it’s fine! If not, i-it’s okay.” He finishes his sentence with an awkward laugh, heart again thudding wildly against his ribcage.

“You’re welcome to visit, Atsumu- _kun._ Anyone who can make Kiyoomi this flustered is always welcome in our household.” Aiko- _san_ says, winks at him playfully.

Atsumu grins at her, nodding, “Thank you, Aiko- _san_.”

“Not to be the party pooper but can you two go wash up? I’m not here to contract your germs. Gross,” Shiomi frowns at the both of them, disinfectant bottle in her hand.

 _Oh_. Well, then. That’s— also a surprise. Mysophobia is pretty rare, Atsumu thinks. He’s never met one until he met Sakusa Kiyoomi and now, Sakusa Shiomi. He doesn’t think it’s hereditary but maybe, these two are more close than their bickering and harsh words suggests.

Atsumu, upon being scolded, sputters and pushes his boyfriend off of him, apologises repeatedly with his head bowed. Despite having almost a normal conversation with Sakusa’s family, he shouldn’t have forgotten what brought them into talking about _porn magazines_ in the first places. _Ohmygod_ , he’s so embarrassing. How is Atsumu not combusting right now? His face is so hot, he could probably power the whole of Osaka with his body heat alone.

“I’m so sorry. I apologise.” Atsumu bows his head, peaks up through his eyelashes as he ignores his boyfriends grumbles beside him, cursing his _annoying sister_ apparently. “C-Can we go wash up, please?”

Shiomi smirks at them, disinfectant back in her purse. “Sure. Walk slowly though, the thigh highs are cute on you.”

“Stop hitting on my boyfriend,” Sakusa hisses and pulls Atsumu up, dragging him quickly to their bedroom. Atsumu allows him, walking after his boyfriend in fast steps, knowing fully well the two women behind him can see him in this shameful outfit.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Sakusa slams him against the wall and kisses him hard, desperate, almost hungry. Atsumu reciprocates quickly, tongue tangling with Sakusa’s own, their teeth clacking loudly as they move in a frantic pace. They grown at the pain, pulling back after, chin covered in spit, eyes half-lidded.

“What was that for?” Atsumu asks, voice a quiet whisper.¨

Sakusa breathes in deeply, hands clutching Atsumu’s waist. “Just— What she said…”

“Are ya jealous?” Atsumu asks then snickers because it’s so _stupid_. And _cute_. What the hell.

“We’re only a year apart and almost look the same. What if… you leave me for her?” Sakusa pouts, words rushing out of him faster than ever.

“Omi, I’m gay,” Atsumu chuckles, cups his boyfriend’s cheeks and pressing a light kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, but _what if you—”_

“I would never leave ya. I’m stuck with ya, ya know.” Atsumu smiles, rubbing small calming circles on Sakusa’s cheek.

“Okay,” Sakusa nods, blows out a breath of relief, then smiles.

“Why so sudden, though? I think yer sister likes teasing ya,” Atsumu says, giggling.

“Yeah,” Sakusa nods with a frown. “She does. We always compete with each other when we were kids.”

“Like me and Osamu?”

“Yeah, but worse because she got away with things, I didn’t.” Sakusa admits, dropping his forehead on Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Must have been difficult,” Atsumu can sympathise but in another level. Osamu and him were never punished separately when one of them asked the other to do _something_. Even when Osamu told their mother that it was Atsumu’s plan, the both of them were always punished equally, no favouritism.

“Sometimes,” Sakusa picks his head up from Atsumu’s shoulder and mouths at his lips, saying, “We’re good now though.”

Atsumu grins, presses a quick kiss on Sakusa’s lips then says, “Except today.”

“Except today,” Sakusa repeats, grinning back.

And they’re back to devouring each other’s lips, forgetting that someone is waiting for them. Their lips move in tandem, now languid, a slow dance as their tongues tangle and spit slowly slide down their chins. Atsumu moans when Sakusa sucks on his tongue and shoves his tongue inside Atsumu’s mouth, mapping his teeth like he wants to remember how Atsumu is built inside and out. Atsumu can only rut against the thigh in between his legs, cock hard again.

Sakusa hikes one of Atsumu’s leg up, rips the stocking off his thigh, and hooks that leg on his waist. Atsumu shudders at the action, a loud moan escaping past his lips. Sakusa brushes his hard cock against Atsumu’s, thrusting lazily. Atsumu wraps his arms around Sakusa’s neck, pulls him into a deep kiss once again as they rut against each other, their once spent cocks now fully hard again under their underwear. Atsumu meets Sakusa’s movements, every time Sakusa fucks into him, he bucks his hips up, loving the unhurried movement.

It feels nice, like this. Atsumu doesn’t think of anything else but fucking up into Sakusa’s clothed cock, hips moving slowly, leg tightening around Sakusa’s hip.

“Feels good, Omi,” Atsumu breathes out, lips pressed on Sakusa’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Sakusa groans, sucks a bruise under Atsumu’s ear. “So good, ‘tsumu.”

“Hmm,” Atsumu hums, moaning as Sakusa’s hands moves from his waist to his ass, squeezing his asscheeks.

They continue like that, fucking against the wall, fully clothed. Atsumu’s cock is drooling pre-come once again on his boxers, twitching and begging for attention. He can feel the indent of Sakusa’s cock against his shorts, hard and big and _wet_. Atsumu wants to feel him.

“Omi,” Atsumu tugs on Sakusa’s shorts, “Off.”

Sakusa pulls back from his neck, looks at Atsumu with dark lust-filled eyes. He doesn’t say anything, only pulls his shorts down, enough so he can take out his cock and pump it a couple of times slowly. Then he does the same thing with Atsumu’s cock, pulling Atsumu’s hard shaft out of his boxers, stroking it slowly a couple of times. Then he pauses, looking down at their bare cocks, standing between them.

Atsumu wiggles, whines, “Omi, _please_.”

“But lube—“

“Fuck, lube. Come on.” Atsumu thrusts up, breathing hitching at the feeling of Sakusa’s cock against his.

Sakusa still doesn’t move and after a beat, he spits on his hand and finally, grasps both of their cocks in one hand, moving up and down, slow at first, spreading spit and pre-come to make it easy pumping their dicks. Atsumu groans, kisses Sakusa sloppily, all tongue and teeth and spit, just plain wet and filthy, the sucking noises from their tongues almost too loud in the quiet of the room.

When they pull back, Atsumu leans his head back against the wall, putting his weight against it. Sakusa buries his face on Atsumu’s neck once again, making a home there, sucking bruises as he continues to move his hands, thumbing on Atsumu’s cockhead before sliding down to the base of their cocks, squeezing his hand tightly and making Atsumu cry out, body jerking.

For a second, Atsumu’s mind clears and he hears someone call their names but it’s too fuzzy, too quiet that it could’ve been his imagination. So he doesn’t pay attention to it, moans deeply when Sakusa fastens his pace, twisting his hand just perfectly around their cocks.

A door clicks open. A voice calls out, pauses, “Kiyoom—”

Atsumu snaps his head to the voice, eyes wide. His body freezes for a moment, eyes meeting that of Shiomi’s. His mouth opens, wanting to say something but a moan escapes from it when Sakusa bites at his neck, whispers a _‘tsumu, fuck_. He’s about to push Sakusa off him when Shiomi puts a finger in front of her lips and shakes her head, brow cocked high up her forehead. Atsumu shudders, moans when Sakusa pumps their cocks even faster, chasing their orgasm. He knows they won’t last long, having already come once earlier but—

Atsumu bites his lower lip, eyes still on Shiomi who’s now grinning at him. Atsumu doesn’t know what to do— he’s kind of conflicted. For one; he’s embarrassed being caught having sex, two; his boyfriend’s sister is a _pervert_ , three; his cock is so hard he wants to come _right now_.

What the hell.

Atsumu sobs when Sakusa strokes their cocks tight and hard and his orgasm comes to him like a punch in the gut, his cock drooling come on their stomachs. He’s so aroused and mortified that Sakusa’s sister is watching them have sex that his orgasm just— bulldozes into him. Atsumu hiccups, whines as Sakusa keeps pumping their cocks together, chasing his own release.

Sakusa comes with a whisper of Atsumu’s name, breathing on his neck. Their cocks are now wet with their own come and Atsumu is now red from head to toe after seeing Shiomi give him a thumbs up at a _job well done_ before the woman leaves. The words has been mouthed and Atsumu could barely read lips but that one he fully understood. What the fuck.

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu whimpers, body trembling when Sakusa refuses to stop stroking his cock, his own spent cock just hanging there. Why is he torturing Atsumu like this?

“Yeah,” Sakusa finally emerges from Atsumu’s neck and with one last stroke, lets Atsumu’s cock go. He smiles and presses a gentle kiss on Atsumu’s lips, kissing Atsumu lazily.

When Sakusa lets pulls back from his lips, Atsumu immediately says, “Y-Your sister was—“

“I know,” Sakusa grins, massages Atsumu’s leg before letting it fall to the ground.

“I’m so— I’m so mortified,” Atsumu covers his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes.

“But you liked it,” Sakusa tells him, prying his hands from his face. “Didn’t you tell me about that time your… ex-partner almost fucked you in a club?”

Atsumu stares at him, eyes wide, cheeks red, “That’s different!”

“How so?” Sakusa furrows his brows, genuinely confused.

“That’s your sister!” Atsumu argues, pouting.

“She likes _hentai_. She’s the worst pervert of all. Don’t lose braincells from respecting her,” Sakusa says, rolling his eyes. He shifts a little and a pained expression crosses his face.

Atsumu immediately knows what’s happening, eyes blazing with anger when he looks down and Sakusa’s leaning all his weight on his right foot.

“I told you to tell me,” Atsumu says, gritting his teeth.

“I’m okay,” Sakusa breathes out, lips now turned into a frown.

“You really sacrificed your foot just so your sister can watch us have sex,” Atsumu accuses, exasperated at his boyfriend’s antics.

“Worth it,” Sakusa grins, presses a kiss on Atsumu’s forehead. “Now she knows she can’t steal you from me.”

“Stop being petty, OmiOmi.”

“No.”

A sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m _your_ impossible.”

“No, you’re my crazy horny boyfriend with an equally crazy horny sister.”

“That’s right!” A sweet voice chimes in and Atsumu, once again, meets Shiomi’s eyes. Her teasing gaze is still intact, seeming to never go away. “Good show, little brother.”

“ _Nee-san,”_ Sakusa grits out, turning to glare at his sister. “Fuck off.”

The once mature woman Atsumu thought her to be flies out the window when she sticks her tongue out and says, childishly, “I’m telling mom.” Then she scampers away, humming an unfamiliar song.

“Uh,” Atsumu blinks at the doorway then turns to look at Sakusa. “Is she like that… normally?”

Sakusa sighs, nods, “Unfortunately.”

“Omi,” Atsumu murmurs. “Your family is pretty… normal.”

This time, Sakusa smiles, his clean hand coming up to rub soothing circles on Atsumu’s cheek. “Yeah, I told you. We don’t much acquaint ourselves with the _rich community_. We only know them for business, nothing else.”

Atsumu nods, this time understanding why Sakusa hasn’t known what the women in the gala have been talking about. So, it’s because of this. Sakusa’s mother is this warm, understanding person that accepts her son wholeheartedly. And his sister is just a teasing pervert who acts childishly and live off of teasing her brother until he’s gone mad. It’s… a normal family. Not like what he’s thought they’d be like; cold, aloof, judgemental.

Atsumu likes them already. He says so.

“I like them.”

Sakusa grins, just a tad bit wide that it crinkles his the corner of his eyes. He replies, “I’m glad you do.”

Their little moment is interrupted by a shout, typical of an impatient mom,

“Kiyoomi, Shiomi said you’re holding Atsumu hostage! Please come out in ten minutes. Let’s go out for dinner!”

Atsumu laughs out loud, hands clutching Sakusa’s shirt as his body shakes.

“I like your mom,” Atsumu wheezes out. “And your sister.”

Sakusa clicks his tongue, presses a long kiss on Atsumu’s lips to shut him up then pulls back, says, “But you like me the best.”

Atsumu giggles, hums, “That I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was too funny to write haha. more sakusa fam shenanigans tomorrow then back to our scheduled porn lol  
>  **ps:** once again, i forgot i had responsibilities and forgot to reply to comments so i will tomorrow! thank you so much for continuing to like this fic!!!! ilu!!!


	18. i love to hold you close (i love to wake up next to you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 18: PETPLAY**
>
>> And when Atsumu comes out, it’s with soft steps, feet bare, quiet as he steps out of the bathroom.
>> 
>> But then Kiyoomi says, “Do foxes walk on two legs, babe?”
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! the timeline of this fic is pretty hazy to me lol but it starts around august and now december. i figured that since it's a kinktober, i wont have any chance to write an xmas fic for this universe, so i went and did it lol advance merry xmas 🎄 lmaooo  
>  **also a note:** uhm, a lot of you probably knows already but this fic is **not beta read** (we die like daichi rip) english is my third lang so mistakes are bound to happen rip i also write chaps on the go and post them after i finish so it's near impossible to get a beta reader to correct my mistakes. i'm sorry if it puts some people off 🥺🥺🥺 i just dont have time to focus on writing in advance and outlining plot for this fic. im writing this fic to enjoy writing fic again so!!! 🥳 ehehehe just want you all to know just in case. sorry this is long ㅠㅠ ㅠㅠ

To say that Atsumu is not used to loud arguments regarding food is a lie. The Miya family for one has three loud men with one woman who puts them on their places. Every time they eat out, Atsumu always fights with his father on what they have to order because the family _always_ shares. Osamu, as well as his mother, eats anything and everything while his father and Atsumu has specific tastes and specific cravings everyday. So, yes, they argue, they are loud, and even when eating, they sometimes speak with food in their mouths. _It’s normal_.

But Atsumu is not prepared on the kind of things that the Sakusa’s fight about. For one; they don’t fight about which food they should order but _how much food_ they should order. Two; Shiomi and Kiyoomi—Atsumu has recently decided to start referring to Sakusa like this since he’s now surrounded with _three_ Sakusa’s, his brain tends to get confused—argues about _where_ to go when Atsumu has suggested they eat _sushi_. Three; their mother, along with Atsumu, stays quiet by their side, not saying anything, only the occasional small talks like this is _normal_ for the four of them.

It feels a little surreal to Atsumu who’s, once the one on the siblings’ shoes, now just the quiet audience. Is this what it means to become an adult? Seems boring.

Atsumu, honestly, is a little baffled by the turn of events. Not in a bad way but in a _good_ way. He feels accepted within the family, a _part_ of them. After all, being included in one’s lover’s family is a big achievement and Atsumu has done it in only a couple of hours. _Wow_.

Once Shiomi won the argument with Atsumu’s backing and Kiyoomi pouting, they quickly drive to the restaurant. One could say that the place is between expensive and affordable, depending on how much money one has. Atsumu who’s blessed to have a job that he loves and pays well thinks it’s affordable enough, and the Sakusa’s? They don’t even blink an eye when they ask for _fresh_ wasabi that’s crushed and made in front of them. Atsumu _knows_ how expensive that is. He doesn’t say anything though, only takes a video and sends it to Osamu who replies with many exclamation marks and drooling emojis.

“Good?” Sakusa— _Kiyoomi_ —questions, rubbing the corner of Atsumu’s lips.

Atsumu hums, smiles at him and flushes when he looks at Aiko- _san_ and Shiomi who are looking at them, grins on their faces.

“Y-Yeah,” Atsumu nods as he picks another piece of sushi and feeds it to Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi doesn’t even hesitate, he quickly takes the piece inside his mouth, humming and nodding at the delicious taste bursting in his tongue.

When Atsumu takes his attention away from Kiyoomi’s face, he finds the two women staring at them in shock, mouths agape like they can’t believe what they have just witnessed.

Atsumu grows nervous, settles his chopsticks down quietly. He stammers, “Is there— something wrong?”

Shiomi regains her bearings first, says, “You fed him.”

Atsumu blinks, tilts his head, confused, “I— did. Yeah, is that… is that rude?” He then turns to Kiyoomi who’s busy choosing which type of sushi to eat next. He seems to be listening though, just— not helping Atsumu with dealing with his problematic sister.

“Oh, no, Atsumu- _kun_ ,” Aiko- _san_ says, seeming to also recover from whatever it is Atsumu has done that resulted to them freezing like that. “On the contrary, it’s _good_. Kiyoomi never liked sharing his food, unless he knows that the person is clean or, you know, _family_.”

“Ah,” Atsumu understands now, why they’ve reacted like that of him feeding Kiyoomi. After all, Kiyoomi _never_ shares plate or chopsticks with anyone, he can tolerate sharing _food_ but utensils and other things that other people touches with their hands directly? A big _no_. And here Atsumu is, feeding Kiyoomi with his _own_ contaminated chopsticks. It’s almost laughable really. How much Kiyoomi has changed when it comes to Atsumu. But as someone who _eats_ Atsumu’s ass regularly, Atsumu thinks sharing utensils is not as big a step in their relationship. But no one has to know that. Especially not Kiyoomi’s sister and mother.

“Well, he’s pretty lax these days,” Atsumu continues with a smile, a little sheepish.

“Indeed,” Shiomi narrows her eyes at Kiyoomi. “I could never do that.”

“Shiomi,” Aiko- _san_ sighs, almost scolding. “Weren’t you seeing someone earlier this month? Perhaps she could be the one.”

“No,” Shiomi answers quickly, scrunching her nose. “She was annoying and kept on telling me to _get over_ my…” She glances at Kiyoomi then to Atsumu and shrugs, “…you know, condition.”

“Oh,” Atsumu’s lips turns into a small frown, can’t picture why someone wouldn’t _try_ to understand Shiomi. Atsumu definitely has researched about mysophobia, even before Kiyoomi joined Black Jackals. He remembers hearing someone say something about Kiyoomi’s condition at the youth camp and Atsumu has spent a night reading about it. That time, he was just curious, not knowing it will aid him in the future. Now though, he’s thankful for his curiosity, it definitely earned him points from his boyfriend.

“I see,” Aiko- _san_ nods, continues eating. She doesn’t argue with her daughter or say something like _you’ll find someone better soon_. It seems a bit cold to Atsumu but perhaps, not to them because Shiomi relaxes her posture and continues shoving pieces of sushi down her throat.

“Atsumu knows a lot about it,” Kiyoomi pipes in, sudden. Atsumu turns to him, grabs his hand under the table and squeezes it, a _stop before you embarrass me_ kind of gesture. But he continues, intent on _bragging_ , “He brings extra masks and a bottle of disinfectant everywhere we go. Oh, and wipes.”

Shiomi glares at him, huffs, “I hate you.”

“You just wish you have an Atsumu,” Sakusa reiterates, smirking.

Atsumu wants to slap both of them. Why are they like this? It’s such a big revelation to see his boyfriend act so— childish. It’s a bit endearing.

“Eat,” Aiko- _san_ says, frowning at her children. She shakes her head in exasperation before she smiles at him, asks, “How long have you two been together, Atsumu- _kun_?”

“Oh, uh, around a month—“

“Almost four months.” Kiyoomi says over Atsumu.

Atsumu _chokes_ when he hears that because Kiyoomi is _counting_ the months that they’ve only been fuck buddies to each other. _What the hell_.

“Omi,” Atsumu pinches his boyfriend’s arm, blushing hard.

“We _were_ exclusive that time,” Kiyoomi reasons, doesn’t react to Atsumu’s scolding.

“I see,” Aiko- _san_ smiles at them, eyes soft. “I’m happy for you two.”

“I‘m not,” Shiomi grumbles. She then says, smirk on her face, “Date me, Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi glares at his sister, retorts, “He’s _taken_.”

Shiomi rolls her eyes, “Psh, he can be _stolen_.”

“I am sitting _here_ ,” Atsumu joins the fray, frowning.

“You all should be _eating_ ,” Aiko- _san_ admonishes and the three of them huffs, quietens as they continue eating.

Indeed, what an eventful dinner.

* * *

Aiko- _san_ and Shiomi doesn’t stay long in Osaka, what with Christmas coming and the eldest Sakusa brother and their father arriving from some business overseas. So Atsumu and Kiyoomi bids them farewell at the airport after two days, promising to visit Tokyo after New Year’s.

After they’re gone, the apartment seems so quiet. In those three nights and two days that the two Sakusa women has stayed in Osaka, Kiyoomi hasn’t let Atsumu leave the apartment to go to his own apartment. Even when he tells him that he’s running out of clean clothes, Kiyoomi only throws him his own clothes, knowing perfectly well they’re almost the same size and what with Kiyoomi’s tendency to buy oversize clothes, Atsumu can’t even argue because they _do_ fit. Plus, when the Sakusa women hears their conversation, they drag Atsumu and Kiyoomi to go shopping.

So now, despite not really living there, Atsumu has his own closet space in Kiyoomi’s walk-in closet and his apartment is probably growing mold due to unuse. And his brain has started referring to Kiyoomi’s apartment as _home_ and Kiyoomi’s bedroom as _their bedroom_. He’s becoming too comfortable. He doesn’t dwell on this thought so much though, preferring to think about it on the comfort of his own apartment where there is no clingy boyfriend who’s always got his lips attached to Atsumu’s neck.

Not that he’s complaining. He never does.

It’s Christmas day and it should have been a big day for them, celebrating with friends and family but a storm is blazing outside, out for some blood from how heavy the rain is coming down and how the wind is blowing too harshly, forcing people to stay inside their houses. Not that Atsumu and Kiyoomi has any special plans for today, what with Kiyoomi technically still injured. But having no _special_ plans doesn’t mean that they haven’t planned anything at all.

Having read the notification for the level of caution the citizens of Osaka should exert because of the storm, Atsumu and Kiyoomi upon waking up, has just lazed around, telling each other their revised plans for the day. They’ve planned on eating dinner outside, come home for a few drinks, maybe have some bomb sex but then it has changed to staying home, cooking dinner together, some drinks, and yes, still have bomb sex.

They have done most of their plans already; cook, eat, drink. The only thing left on the list is the last one.

Which should have already started but again, their plan has changed.

And it starts with Kiyoomi’s gift.

Atsumu should have known this already, shouldn’t have been as surprised as he is what with hearing scandalous middle school memories of Kiyoomi from both Shiomi and Aiko- _san_ but still, Atsumu has thought his boyfriend at least has some sort _shame_.

Idiot of Atsumu to think that, really.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know _shame_. And because he doesn’t know shame, he gifts Atsumu an _outfit_. A _fox_ outfit to be exact.

And because Atsumu can’t say no to his boyfriend, he _wears_ the outfit, fox ears, fox tail, top and shorts, _the whole ensemble_. Briefly he’s wondered where Kiyoomi has gotten this kind of outfit but chooses to not ask about it because he _knows_ it will only fuel Kiyoomi’s… special interests.

Not that Atsumu is not interested but— well, someone has to be _shameful_ in this relationship. And that responsibility falls on him.

Even though he’s the one wearing the outfit. God, forgive him.

So now he’s here, wearing the _gift_ Kiyoomi has given him, just a little nervous in opening the bathroom door and showing his boyfriend what he looks like.

“Omi?” Atsumu opens the door a little, peeks out slightly. He wiggles, bites his lip when the plug inside him that’s connected to the tail moves every time he moves. It’s _maddening_.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi answers, sitting on the edge of their bed, fully clothed. He makes a gorgeous picture. Atsumu wants to devour him. Or something.

“’m goin’ out now,” Atsumu tells him, voice quivering a little.

“Okay,” Kiyoomi replies, a smile on his face. He reaches out a hand, palm up, urging Atsumu to come out.

And when Atsumu comes out, it’s with soft steps, feet bare, quiet as he steps out of the bathroom.

But then Kiyoomi says, “Do foxes walk on two legs, babe?”

Atsumu freezes, then slowly, legs quivering, he kneels, hands on the floor, now on all fours. Because he’s a kept pet right now, not a person.

“Good boy,” Kiyoomi says, smiling softly.

Atsumu whines, clenches his hands on the floor and begins to crawl to where Kiyoomi is. He can feel his cheeks bloom a deep red, spreading to his neck as he shortens the distance between them. It’s so _embarrassing_ to be in this position but Atsumu doesn’t hate it. In fact, he’s the one who’s asked Kiyoomi to do this… _play._ Kiyoomi’s plan has been to fuck Atsumu in this outfit only but Atsumu has suggested that they do something extra. And now here he is, cock slowly hardening inside his shorts, breathing heavily, almost panting as he crawls to his boyfriend.

When he’s by the foot of the bed, Atsumu settles in between Kiyoomi’s legs and nuzzles his cheek against his thighs, humming softly.

Atsumu starts, “Omi—“

And Kiyoomi grabs his chin with harsh fingers, says, “Pets don’t talk.”

_Oh._

So Atsumu nods then whines, fingers digging against the carpeted floor. He wants to say _let me suck your cock_ but he can’t so he continues to nuzzles against Kiyoomi’s thighs, getting closer to his crotch where his cock is obviously as hard as Atsumu’s is.

“You want my cock, _pet_?” Kiyoomi shoves his thumb inside his mouth, pressing on his tongue. Atsumu moans, nodding frantically, sucking on his finger. “Then take my cock out. No hands.”

Atsumu stops sucking his finger then, looks at his boyfriend for a few seconds before resuming what he’s been doing, tongue swirling around Kiyoomi’s thumb, until Kiyoomi pulls it out and Atsumu is left panting, spit decorating his chin.

When Kiyoomi parts his legs wider, it is Atsumu’s cue to mouth at his clothed cock, moaning against the fabric of his pants. It’s a formal pants that should be treated carefully but Atsumu is slobbering against it, covering the crotch area with spit, desperate to feel Kiyoomi’s cock against his tongue. It’s hard to open pants with only teeth involve and Atsumu tries a couple of times to pop the button off, using his tongue and teeth but it _just won’t_ and he becomes so frustrated he starts whining and crying, looking up at his boyfriend with teary eyes. He pouts at him, sniffs pitifully.

Kiyoomi watches him, eyes glinting in amusement. He’s enjoying this.

“Aw, my little pet can’t do it?” He inquires, tone mocking. Atsumu allows a frustrated tear to fall from his eye as he nods. “Need help?”

Atsumu is quick to agree, opening his mouth to say something then remember that he can’t say anything so he clamps it shut once again.

“Hmm, fine,” Kiyoomi grins, pops his button, pulls his zipper down and takes his hard cock out, having gone commando.

Seeing the hard cock in front of him, Atsumu quickly takes it inside his mouth, sucking on the head, tongue swirling around it, tasting the pre-come that has gathered there. He moans at the taste and the weight of Kiyoomi’s cock on his tongue, moving his head up and down shallowly, testing the waters of how deep he can take Kiyoomi today.

He hears Kiyoomi groan at his actions, hands coming up to his blonde hair, throwing his ear headband to the floor and clutching tight as he allows Atsumu to swallow his cock, slobbering on it, covering it with spit. Atsumu pulls back up, taking in deep breaths before diving back again, swallowing Kiyoomi’s cock deeper until it hits his throat, making him gag. He doesn’t pull back though, allows his throat to relax, constricting at being pushed to its limit. Atsumu loves it, when he’s reduced to moaning against Kiyoomi’s cock, eyes teary as he takes him in inch by inch.

He takes a moment to breath through his nose, swallowing, throat moving at the action, and making Kiyoomi thrust his cock deeper. Atsumu gags, looks up at Kiyoomi through his wet eyelashes, lips stretched as wide as possible around his cock. He must look obscene and filthy and Sakusa seems to like it, looking at him with his pupils blown, eyes dark, filled with desire for _Atsumu_ and Atsumu only.

“So good,” Kiyoomi moans, deep, almost guttural.

Atsumu starts moving his head in and out, Kiyoomi following his lead, thrusting inside his mouth, hitting the back of his throat a couple of times. Atsumu gags every time, stomach constricting, body quivering at the sensations shooting up his spine. He moans around Kiyoomi’s cock, his tongue lapping at the large shaft, sucking on the tip, accepts what Kiyoomi gives him.

Kiyoomi starts thrusting faster and shallow and he’s clutching Atsumu’s hair tighter. Atsumu can feel his cock twitching inside his mouth, ready to come. Atsumu wants to swallow his come, want to feel it slide down his throat, the salty taste lingering on his tongue. But at the last minute, Kiyoomi pulls out, holds the tip of his cock tight, preventing himself from coming.

He says, “What a slutty mouth you have, pet.”

Atsumu pants, tongue out, drooling. He can feel his cock twitching, so hard against his stomach. His legs is trembling and he knows his knees will have carpet burn after but it’s worth it. _So fucking worth it_.

Kiyoomi shoves two fingers inside Atsumu’s mouth, shoving it as far as it can go, holding his tongue down. Atsumu sucks on them, closing his eyes. Not even a few seconds after, Kiyoomi is pulling them out and dragging Atsumu up by his hair, making him cry out.

“Hush, you’re just a pet.” Kiyoomi scolds, voice hard.

Atsumu shudders, sniffs as he nods and settles on Kiyoomi’s lap, body jerking when the butt plug inside him digs deeper but not deep enough. It’s not enough. Atsumu starts gyrating his hips, grinding on Kiyoomi’s lap while Kiyoomi tears a packet of condom, slides it down his cock, slicks it with lube and pumps it slowly. All of that done as quickly as possible and Atsumu is left breathing heavily on top of him, fingers digging on his shoulders, moaning every time the butt plug moves inside his wet hole.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Kiyoomi ask, pulling on Atsumu’s tail.

Atsumu jerks, groans, and nods. He says, “ _Please, please, Omi_.”

“I said,” Kiyoomi starts, twisting the plug around his hole wet with lube. “Pets don’t talk or are you so dumb to understand that?”

“I—“ Atsumu hiccups, bows his head, moving his hips in synch with Kiyoomi’s actions. “‘m sorry. _Please. Fuck me._ ”

“You’re not listening to me,” Kiyoomi clicks his tongue, grabs Atsumu’s chin, squishing his cheeks. “Pets don’t talk. Sluts don’t get to demand.”

Atsumu can’t say anything. He can only nod his head before a soft cry leaves his lips when Kiyoomi slowly pulls the plug out of his wet hole and shoves two fingers inside right away. He pumps his fingers fast, the squelching sounds seeming to echo around the bedroom along with Atsumu’s moans. Kiyoomi adds another finger not long after, fucking inside Atsumu and stretching him properly, preparing him for Kiyoomi’s cock.

A few more thrusts and Kiyoomi pulls out his fingers and replaces them with his big cock. Atsumu’s legs quiver beside Kiyoomi’s own as he sits up a little, Kiyoomi’s cock lining with his hungry hole. Both of them takes a deep breath simultaneously before Kiyoomi drops Atsumu’s hips down his cock, burying his dick inside in one go. It punches a cry out of Atsumu, his arms wrapping tight around Kiyoomi’s neck.

Kiyoomi doesn’t let him _breathe_ , fucking Atsumu without any rest. He bounces Atsumu on top of him, hands on Atsumu’s hips tight, digging on his skin hard as he guides him. Atsumu allows Kiyoomi to move him, moving up and down his cock, grinding on his lap, circling his hips. It makes him moan and groan, crying out when Kiyoomi’s cock changes angle and it hits his prostate repeatedly. Kiyoomi fucks him hard, shoving his cock inside him as far as he can, abusing his wet hole, making a mess out of him until the only thing he can do is moan and allow Kiyoomi to use his body for his own satisfaction.

Atsumu can feel his orgasm coming, his cock twitching in between them. It drools pre-come against Kiyoomi’s black formal shirt, staining and ruining it. Atsumu doesn’t care, ruts against Kiyoomi’s clothed stomach, wanting delicious friction on his cock.

Falling back on the bed, Atsumu cries out in surprise, falling on top of Kiyoomi, cock now trapped between them. He sobs when Kiyoomi wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, holds Atsumu against him tightly and fucks him fast and shallow until he’s drooling and crying and begging to _please omi ‘m coming._ Kiyoomi fucks him hard until he releases inside, come spurting into the condom. Atsumu can still feel the warmth of it though and the twitch of Kiyoomi’s cock inside his hole is what does it; he comes hard, untouched, body shaking as he cries, face buried on Kiyoomi’s chest.

It takes Atsumu a minute or two to come down from his orgasm, somehow feeling like he’s unlocked some sort of ability after releasing so hard he feels like he’s going to pass out.

When he comes down, Kiyoomi is littering kisses on his face; his eyelids, his forehead, nose, cheeks, lips. Atsumu makes a quiet sound, some sort of laugh and then Kiyoomi is kissing him hard, shoving his tongue inside Atsumu’s mouth. Atsumu makes a surprised sound but doesn’t protest, only smiles against the kiss and reciprocates. He loves Kiyoomi’s kisses.

Pulling back Kiyoomi nibbles on his lower lip before saying, gentle, a contrast to earlier, “Merry Christmas, ‘tsumu.”

Atsumu laughs, plants a quick kiss on his lips, “Merry Christmas, OmiOmi.”

When the morning comes, Atsumu is the first to wake up. And when he moves, he finds a thin chain of necklace with a simple ring as pendant hanging on his neck. His heart stutters before beating wildly, almost _too much_ for him to handle. He turns to Kiyoomi, eyes trailing to his neck and finds an identical necklace there. Atsumu can’t help but grin widely before squishing Kiyoomi into a tight hug. And even then, his boyfriend doesn’t wake up. So he hugs him tighter.

This man is _his_. _He_ is this man’s.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for continuing to like this fic!!! ilu all!!! <333333


	19. you deserve it baby (i’m gonna give it to you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 19: COCKWARMING** & **DAY 20: CREAMPIE**
>
>> “‘m sorry,” Atsumu says, not meaning it.
>> 
>> Kiyoomi snorts, fingers on Atsumu’s waist rubbing up and down his sides. “I know you aren’t.”
>> 
>> “Yeah,” Atsumu giggles then yawns. 
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! back with the porn and crack lmao im sorry for this!! also sorry for not posting, i had some unimportant things to do ㅠㅠ  
> ps: these my fave kinks so i might be biased writing this ahahahaha 🤢

Atsumu wants to say that the day after Christmas is smooth sailing and that they have acquired the rights to live the _happily ever after story_. But life isn’t so simple. In fact, rather than living his happily ever after, it seems that Atsumu has been downgraded to live a _suffer_ ever after. Or something like that.

He might just be a bit over-dramatic.

In reality, the days after Christmas is hectic and there isn’t seem to be any free time to spend a few quiet hours with his boyfriend. Including the New Year’s. The New Year’s, once a holiday that Atsumu cherishes so much, where he and his family goes to a shrine, pray to who they believe in and go home to relax. But being an adult isn’t so simple anymore. He’s got _responsibilities_ and he has to postpone meeting his family in lieu of going to a shrine with his teammates before going to the gym for some weight training and _then_ some more practice.

Thankfully, his boyfriend is there with him from the shrine to the end of his practice until they have to part their own ways because Kiyoomi has to go to the hospital the next day and Atsumu has some shooting for a sports magazine and practice after. Again, _adulting_ is hard.

Life isn’t so easy and it weighs him down.

The second week of January has only just begun but Atsumu is ready to go on a rampage and demand rest. Most of his teammates would probably agree with him but Coach Foster would also probably just give them more laps to run around the gym. Such is his cruel life.

Again, he might just be a bit over-dramatic _but_ his exhaustion isn’t. He really is ready to collapse.

But maybe after this interview.

“Miya- _san_ , you never talk about your private life,” The interviewer starts, smiling softly.

Atsumu smiles back, acknowledging her words. “I’m a private guy.”

“Ah, but everyone is curious. Have you seen the trending topic on _twitter_ these days?”

Atsumu doesn’t use _twitter_ a lot these days. He’d rather sleep than browse the internet.

Looking confused, he answers, shaking his head, “No.” Then asks, “What’s trending on _twitter_ these days?”

“Your necklace.”

Immediately Atsumu grabs the front of his shirt, fists clenching tightly around the necklace dangling around his neck, under his shirt and unseen by anyone. Yet it feels like the world is staring at it, the cold metal of the ring sitting just under his clavicle sending shivers down his spine.

Breathing in as calmly as possible, Atsumu lets out an awkward laugh, and slowly, like a frightened animal, allows his hand to lay on his lap again, intertwining with his other hand. His fingers trembles just slightly and he hopes no one would notice.

“Ah, which necklace?” Atsumu widens his eyes and relaxes his posture, like the topic doesn’t affect him much. Breathe in, breathe out. “I wear quite a few trendy ones. Did you want to know the brand? They’re not anything expensive though.”

Of course his normal necklaces aren’t expensive. They are, at best, stainless steel silver, something that one could buy on the streets of Osaka. But _this_ necklace, the one that everyone is so curious about, is, indeed, _expensive_ and special. And yet so simple, with only an engraving on the inside of the ring.

It says: _omi_ and nothing else.

And of course, Kiyoomi’s ring says: _tsumu_ and that’s it.

Like _promise rings_.

Kiyoomi has given him this necklace. If Atsumu has to put a price on it, he’d say it’s _priceless_. Nothing can beat the emotion that Atsumu has felt when he saw the matching necklace dangling on their necks the day after Christmas. Perhaps he’s even shed a tear or two— or maybe a bucket. Kiyoomi has made sure to wipe and kiss them all away despite Atsumu telling him that they were happy tears.

Kiyoomi has said, “I don’t like when you cry.”

Atsumu has snorted, sniffing, a few tears escaping his eyes, “It’s happy tears.”

“Still,” Kiyoomi frowns and kisses his eyelids, catching the tears with his lips.

“Is it because you get horny,” Atsumu jokes, laughter wet and voice a little hoarse.

Kiyoomi only frowns deeper, then whispers, “You’re a pretty crier.”

“See, I knew it. You get horny when I cry,” Atsumu sniffs, blinking his eyes.

“I don’t,” Kiyoomi has denied then but at the next second he’s kissed Atsumu like he’s a man starved for years and well, the morning sex that has followed is, for the lack of a better description, _bomb_.

After that, every time Atsumu forgets to take the jewellery off while practicing or on errands like interviews and photoshoots for sponsored products, people has kept on asking him about it. _Who gave you that? Are you engaged? Who’s the lucky girl?_ And because Kiyoomi is still on rest, no one could see the matching necklace his boyfriend also has around his neck. So, Atsumu is the only one bombarded by questions and rumours and _twitter_.

Not that he’s known he trended on _twitter_. Until now.

“Miya- _san_ , I think you know what I’m talking about,” The interviewer looks at where his hand has been earlier. “Is it an important necklace?”

Aren’t the questions supposed to be about _volleyball?_ Or at least about _sports_? Why are they asking Atsumu about his personal life? Are sports magazine interested in _gossips_? He doesn't think so but— knowing the young generations these days… It is possible. Tsk.

Atsumu doesn’t know what to answer. Yes, he could just lie and say: _no, it’s just a necklace I bought randomly, no special meaning_ but there is also something gripping his heart, telling him to _not lie_ because his relationship with Kiyoomi isn’t a lie. It feels like he’d be _insulting_ their relationship if he tells some shitty lie that would appease the interviewer and his many fans that _no, Miya Atsumu isn’t taken, he’s free as a bird_. Free as a bird— _Ha_.

Atsumu plays dumb instead. After all, he doesn’t dye his hair blonde just for _aesthetics._ He could just play the blonde and dumb card later even though everyone knows it’s fake.

“Important? I guess necklaces are important…” Atsumu trails off, blinking his eyes at the interviewer, looking clueless, like he doesn’t know what the hell this person is talking about. “Oh, but aren’t jewelries all the same! I wish people were as curious about my plays as much as my jewelries.”

The last sentence comes out of his mouth a bit harshly, almost sarcastic. The interviewer blinks at him, flinching a little at his tone before regaining her senses and clearing her throat.

Atsumu cocks a brow at her, challenging.

The interviewer frowns but continues reading questions from her small notebook. The recorder in front of them doesn’t stop recording and Atsumu worries for a while of what Meian- _san_ would say about his attitude but then he shrugs because he knows Meian- _san_ would support him.

“Well—“ The interviewer hesitates, then hardens her eyes, determined, “People wants to know. Does Miya- _san_ have a lover?”

Ah, yes, _people_. Meaning the gossip mongers. Like those rich people that Kiyoomi has told him to never lose sleep over. Atsumu has made peace about that but seeing that his life seems to not get rid of _gossip_ , he continues to _loathe_ them.

This question has been asked one hundred and however many times before. In every interview, this question is always the last question that the interviewers asks them. It’s really funny because Atsumu always answers the same way before but now— he feels like being a _brat_ , a little petty.

So instead of saying _why don’t you all just find out?_ followed by a flirty wink if he’s on television, this time, Atsumu answers with a,

“Maybe.”

And so Miya Atsumu breaks not only _twitter_ but also _LINE_.

_Haha._

* * *

After that interview, Atsumu goes back to his apartment but not after telling Hinata and Bokuto about what happened. The three of them—supposed to be four with Kiyoomi but Kiyoomi is forbidden from doing work—has the photoshoot and interview. But instead of having a group interview, they’ve done individual ones. This is why no one could stop Atsumu from answering that last question like that. Individual interviews might be annoying but they are also _fun_.

Thankfully, it’s the weekend the next day and the magazine is going to come out the next month. So, Atsumu has a month to appease not only their media team but also Coach Foster and Meian- _san_ who immediately sends him a _good job_ after hearing what he’s done. See? Meian- _san i_ s on his side. Atsumu would say it’s because he is cute but it is probably because it’s good future publicity for their team, no matter if there’s any backlash or not.

Other than Meian- _san’s_ message to Atsumu, Kiyoomi is the only one who sends him a message before his exhausted body couldn’t handle being awake anymore.

> **omiomi:  
> ** come over tomorrow, ‘tsumu.
> 
> **you:  
> ** yes!! <3333  
> i’ll come after practice!!

The weekends now aren’t _rest_ days, they have become practice days since more games are being scheduled and new training regime has been introduced after New Year’s. It really isn’t a surprise when Atsumu could feel his stress rising to the highest degree and his cheer dwindling down the more the days pass him by.

Saturday practice is particularly _tiring_. Not only because he’s been here and there for interviews and doing errands the whole week, that _weekend_ feeling is gnawing at his skin and he can’t wait to see his boyfriend that he hasn’t seen in person for a week. He wants to _leave_.

And so, when six o’clock ticks, Atsumu is the first one out of the gym, still a little bit sweaty. He quickly take the subway to _Umeda,_ runs the rest of the way to his boyfriend’s building, rides the elevator and finally, after punching in the password to the apartment, slams the door open and announces his arrival with a,

“I’m home!”

Because for some reason, his apartment is _his apartment_ and Kiyoomi’s apartment is _home_. People always says a home isn’t a place but a person. Maybe Kiyoomi is his home.

Kiyoomi stands in front of him, wearing his usual shirt and sweats lounge outfit, looking at him carefully. His left foot still has the compression wrap on but he can walk properly now without even wincing in pain. Still, he’s bound to the ground, multiple times refused by the doctors to go back to playing volleyball because jumping and straining his foot could cause a long term injury. And despite being frustrated, Kiyoomi follows the doctor’s instructions properly.

“Welcome home,” Kiyoomi greets, opening his arms wide, and Atsumu quickly jumps into his arms, hugging tightly while slumping on his boyfriend, who’s holding onto him carefully.

He breathes the scent he misses the most; clean and lavender and disinfectant. He’s missed him.

“I missed you,” Atsumu says against Kiyoomi’s chest, eyes closing in exhaustion.

“I missed you too,” Kiyoomi presses a kiss on to of his head and Atsumu smiles, comforted. “But you smell. Go shower.”

Ah, yes. His boyfriend always has to ruin the moment. Atsumu doesn’t protest though, only puts his shoes properly on the _genkan_ and goes to shower, cleaning himself properly. He doesn’t know if he has the energy to _fuck_ but it _could_ happen so Atsumu hasn’t cut corners. And because the bath is tempting, he ends up taking a bath, just basking in the warmth of the water and the steam, closing his eyes and relaxing.

Atsumu doesn’t know how long he’s been in the bath before he hears a knock, followed by Kiyoomi’s soft voice,

“Atsumu? Alright there?”

Atsumu hums, blinking his eyes open. Did he doze off? Maybe. He isn’t sure. He’s too relaxed, stress free.

“Can I come in?” Kiyoomi asks, voice still soft but louder.

Atsumu shakes his head, shaking away the drowsiness he’s feeling before answering, “Yeah.”

Kiyoomi enters immediately and Atsumu smiles at him, most of his body still submerged on the water. His boyfriend comes closer and sits on the floor, closer to where his head is leaning on the edge of the tub.

“Hey,” Kiyoomi murmurs, quiet, reaching out and brushing a few wet strands plastered on Atsumu’s forehead.

Atsumu hums again, content. He takes Kiyoomi’s hand in his pruning fingers, intertwining and laying them on his chest.

“Missed ya,” Atsumu whispers, closing his eyes.

“I know,” Kiyoomi answers, squeezing Atsumu’s hand gently. “Don’t fall asleep.”

Atsumu lets out a quiet laugh, blinking his eyes open. “‘m not.”

“You are.”

“Hmpf, then help me out.”

Atsumu grinns at his boyfriend, splashing his legs just a little.

“You’re getting me wet,” Kiyoomi says but without heat, only fondness found in his voice.

“Then help me quickly,” Atsumu demands, like the brat that he is.

“Brat,” Kiyoomi retorts, lips tugging into a smile.

And even when he says that , Kiyoomi still helps Atsumu out of the bath, taking the fluffy white towel from the hook and starts drying Atsumu with gentle hands. Atsumu stands there, small smile on his lips. After Kiyoomi wraps a bathrobe around his body, they go out of the bathroom and into their bedroom where the temperature is just perfectly warm that it makes Atsumu drowsy.

Before Kiyoomi can say anything, Atsumu rummages around Kiyoomi’s closet, finds a plain white oversized shirt that he quickly throws on and wears his own boxers from his own side of the closet.

It feels oddly domestic of them— or just him because Kiyoomi is still watching him even when he jumps on the bed and buries his face on the pillow, breathing in deeply.

After a while, Kiyoomi joins him on the bed, leaning against the headboard and running his fingers through Atsumu’s damp hair.

“Tired?” Kiyoomi asks, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“A little,” Atsumu answers, looking up at Kiyoomi’s face.

It has only been a week but it felt like he hasn’t seen his boyfriend for so long, feeling like he’s forgotten how he looks and how his eyes were so deep he could drown in them. Hecan’t help but repeat, voice almost inaudible,

“Missed ya.”

“Me too.”

Yawning, Atsumu shuffles around, lays his chin on Kiyoomi’s thigh before saying, “I wanna try something.”

Kiyoomi cocks a brow, curious, “Alright. What is it?”

Atsumu grins, sitting up.

This is why he also has not any _cut corners_ in cleaning himself.

Really, sometimes, things are easier in theory. For example, that meteorite serve that he’s wanted to do in high school but was banned from using in actual matches because it was too annoying. There’s also sitting on Kiyoomi’s face; granted, that one went well but Atsumu had his heart in his throat half of the time, fearing in suffocating his boyfriend. And also, now, sitting on his boyfriend’s cock. Just, you know, _sitting_. Like, warming his cock. _Huh._

Atsumu has wanted to try this for the longest time but he’s been too cowardly to ask. Plus there hasn’t been any time. When they fuck, it’s always fast and frantic and filthy. No nonsense, just chasing for their release. Sometimes, they do take it slow but it always escalates fast, bringing them back to fucking like they can’t get enough of each other.

But Atsumu wants this and Kiyoomi, the perfect boyfriend that he is, doesn’t even think of saying no.

Well, it benefits both of them after all. So, it is a win-win situation.

“Is it really okay?” Atsumu questions, straddling Kiyoomi’s lap.

Kiyoomi squeezes his waist, smiling as he nods, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Uh—“ Atsumu chews on his lower lip, squirming. He can feel his bare cock brush against his shirt, his boxers long thrown to the side. “Because we’ve never done this before…”

“That’s why we’re doing it now,” Kiyoomi replies, rubbing a hand under Atsumu’s eye. “You look tired. You can sleep, yeah?”

Atsumu hesitates because even though he’s the one who suggested it, he doesn’t want to seem _clingy_ and _needy._ Even though it’s true; he _is_ clingy and needy.

“But is it really _okay_?” Atsumu asks again just— _just to be sure_.

“‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi presses a kiss on his lips, soft, _soothing_. “More than okay. Didn’t you know? I’d do anything you want.”

“Transfer one million yen on my bank account?” Atsumu jokes, lips slowly pulling into a grin, body relaxing.

“Done by tomorrow,” Kiyoomi says, tone serious.

And Atsumu, realising that Kiyoomi _would_ do some crazy shit like that, quickly says, “No, no. I was joking. Don’t do it. I swear to god, Omi, if you do it…” He narrows his eyes, glaring at his boyfriend.

Kiyoomi smiles at him, shrugging his shoulders, “Whatever you want.”

Atsumu lets out a sigh, allowing his forehead fall onto Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “You spoil me.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi nods, pressing a kiss on Atsumu’s hair.

“You should stop.”

“Never.”

A sigh.

“So will you warm my cock or just fall asleep like this?” Kiyoomi asks, voice teasing.

Atsumu’s cheeks blooms into a blush at hearing the words, murmuring his reply on Kiyoomi’s shirt.

“Warm your cock.”

“Hey,” Kiyoomi urges him to look up, meeting his eyes. “Condom or no?”

“No condom,” Atsumu answers, heart suddenly beating wildly inside his chest.

This is only the second time that they’re having sex bare. The first time is after that _gala,_ when Kiyoomi has fucked him hard against the wall, shoving his cock inside Atsumu as deep as he could. That time, Atsumu hasn’t even noticed, too emotional to even think about _condom._ After that, they’d always used a condom when they fuck and Atsumu has never complained but he wants to feel Kiyoomi’s cock inside him with no restrictions, bare and wet and warm.

“Alright,” Kiyoomi nods, a hand slipping under Atsumu’s shirt and rubbing his bare back. “Why are you so embarrassed? We’ve talked about this before.”

Yes, they have talked about it before. About fucking without condom. They even have themselves checked for possible diseases despite it being _too late_ because they’d done almost everything at this time in their relationship. But it’s never too late to be careful. And when the tests come back negative, they’d talk more. But as Atsumu has thought, things were always easily done in theory than in reality.

“’s just— I don’t know. It’s just embarrassing,” Atsumu pouts, squirming on top of Kiyoomi.

“Cute,” Kiyoomi says, both hands now on Atsumu’s hips, preventing him from moving too much.

“Shut up,” Atsumu pouts more, blush on his cheeks.

“Can I prepare you now?” Kiyoomi asks and Atsumu nods, once again hiding his face on the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck.

Atsumu can hear Kiyoomi open the bottle of lube before squishing some onto his hands. Atsumu takes a deep breath, arms around Kiyoomi’s neck tightening when Kiyoomi spreads his ass and rubs a finger on his twitching hole.

“Relax, babe,” Kiyoomi whispers, his other hand rubbing comforting circles on Atsumu’s thigh.

Atsumu nods and takes a few deep breaths before his body slowly relaxes. Kiyoomi, noticing that, slowly pushes a finger inside him, pumping slowly. At the familiar feeling of having Kiyoomi’s finger inside, Atsumu hums, content. Kiyoomi fucks him with one finger for a while before adding a new one, and again slowly fucks Atsumu with those fingers. Kiyoomi starts slow first but then he starts fucking Atsumu faster and harder, fingers hooking on his rim before slamming inside, punching a hard moan out of Atsumu’s lips.

Atsumu groans, “More.”

Kiyoomi hums in acknowledgement and wriggles in another finger beside the two inside him. This time, he only gives Atsumu little time to adjust before pumping his fingers in and out hard, up to the knuckle, the sound of squelching heard clearly in the quiet of the room.

Atsumu continues to moan, bouncing his hips to meet Kiyoomi’s thrusts. He picks his head up from Kiyoomi’s neck and pulls him into a kiss, their lips slotting perfectly, tongues tangling with each other.

When Atsumu pulls from the kiss, he moans, “Your cock. Want it inside.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze stays on his face, not faltering. He pushes his fingers inside Atsumu a couple more times, harder and deeper before pulling them out, making Atsumu whine from the loss.

“Shh,” Kiyoomi mouths on Atsumu’s lips as he lines his cock with Atsumu’s wet hole.

Atsumu blinks at him, panting, his lips red, wet with spit. “Put it in, Omi.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything else as he slowly sits Atsumu down his cock, pushing in slowly. Atsumu can feel Kiyoomi’s cock slide inside him; warm and wet and throbbing. It’s a different feeling from having a condom as barrier between them. This time, he can feel how Kiyoomi’s cock throbs inside, filling his walls perfectly. He likes how full he feels, his hole stretched around Kiyoomi’s cock, twitching for more.

“Okay?” Kiyoomi asks once he’s got his cock inside Atsumu up to the hilt.

Atsumu clenches his hole around Kiyoomi’s cock, nodding and humming. “Yeah. You?”

Kiyoomi breaths in deeply, fingers on Atsumu’s waist clenching and unclenching.

“Yeah. Good,” Kiyoomi replies, voice breathy. “So tight.” He says, adds, “So warm.”

Atsumu hums, pressing a kiss to Kiyoomi’s lips. “Hmm, love your cock.”

A chuckled escapes past Kiyoomi’s lips and Atsumu smiles, clenches his hole again, making Kiyoomi choke on a groan, throwing his head back, a thump being heard as it hits the headboard of the bed. Atsumu giggles, does it again just so he can hear Kiyoomi’s deep groan, see him resist moving because Atsumu wants to _warm his cock_.

“You’re making this hard for me,” Kiyoomi breathes out, almost panting. He opens his eyes and looks at Atsumu with half-lidded eyes, gaze dark.

Atsumu bounces his ass on Kiyoomi’s lap before settling down and nuzzling his face on Kiyoomi’s neck.

“‘m sorry,” Atsumu says, not meaning it.

Kiyoomi snorts, fingers on Atsumu’s waist rubbing up and down his sides. “I know you aren’t.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu giggles then yawns.

“Rest,” Kiyoomi says, a hand coming up to run his hand through Atsumu’s still slightly damp hair.

“‘mkay,” Atsumu mumbles, closing his eyes.

Atsumu’s body starts to relax, his muscles becoming heavy and lax as he leans on Kiyoomi’s body, cheek pressed on his shoulder. Contrary to what Kiyoomi has suggested, Atsumu is not intending to fall asleep. He just want to close his eyes and feel Kiyoomi’s warmth inside him and outside, missing his comforting heat after over a week of not having seen each other. Besides, it’s pretty hard to fall asleep with his boyfriend’s cock throbbing inside his ass, tempting him to just _move._ But Atsumu stays still, breathing steady, mind going hazy as he sinks into Kiyoomi’s comfort.

“Warm,” Atsumu mumbles, eyes fluttering close.

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi drops a kiss on top of his head, shifting a little.

Atsumu moans at the movement, fists clenching on Kiyoomi’s shirt. “Don’t move.”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi whispers, settling down and not moving anymore. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am,” Atsumu moves his head into a small nod, his eyes closing completely.

“Rest, ‘tsumu.”

“‘kay.”

“Is that Atsumu?”

“Yeah. He’s sleeping.”

“Why don’t you put him to bed? That position looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.”

Atsumu can hear bits and pieces of conversation, his mind half-awake, half-asleep. To be honest, he doesn’t even know in what state he’s in, all he knows is he feels warm and there’s a hand combing his hair and it feels so comfortable where he is. He buries his nose deeper where warm skin is, breathing in the scent he’s so familiar with.

“Aw, he’s so cute. Look at him.”

“I know. Don’t look, Shiomi.”

“Where’s _nee-san,_ brat?”

“Shiomi.”

“Kiyoomi, Shiomi, you’re gonna wake Atsumu-kun if you continue.

“Yeah,” A voice Atsumu is unfamiliar with joins the conversation. “Let him sleep.”

Atsumu scrunches his nose, wondering whose voice that is. He breathes in deeply, still in that half-awake, half-asleep state. When no one says another word, Atsumu falls to dreamland again, breathing steady.

Atsumu wakes slowly, eyes heavy from sleep. He tries to make sense of where he is and what’s going on, confused on why he’s got a little crick on his neck when he shouldn’t. He normally sleeps comfortably, not… like this. He breathes in deeply, blinking his eyes a couple of times before he squints and shifts. And when he moves, he can feel the cock inside him, still hard and filling him so good.

 _Oh_.

So he _did_ fall asleep. Even when he hasn’t intended to fall asleep, the exhaustion still has caught up to him and has dragged him down to dreamland. He lets out a whine, catching Kiyoomi’s attention.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Kiyoomi greets, combing his bangs from his forehead.

“How long was I asleep?” Atsumu asks, blinking at the phone on Kiyoomi’s hand.

“An hour or so,” Kiyoomi answers, smiling. Atsumu picks his head up and plants a kiss on Kiyoomi’s lips before dropping his head on his chest again, still sleepy. “You were even snoring.”

“I wasn’t,” Atsumu frowns, squints at the phone screen again. “Are you on FaceTime call?”

Kiyoomi freezes, moves the hand holding his phone in front of them slowly as he answers, “Uh,” he swallows, “Yeah.”

“Atsumu, had a good sleep?” Shiomi appears on the screen.

Atsumu smiles then does a double take before sitting up fast, surprised. At his movement Kiyoomi’s cock pushes deeper inside him, making both of them bite back a groan.

“Shiomi- _nee_?” Atsumu asks, bewildered.

“Atsumu- _kun,_ is Kiyoomi taking care of you?” Aiko- _san_ says, her face appearing on the screen this time.

Atsumu’s heart beats wildly and his hands tremble from preventing himself in hitting his boyfriend. He forces a smile as he looks at Aiko- _san_ , greeting,

“Hello, Aiko- _san_. How are you?”

“I’m perfect, Atsumu- _kun_. Thank you for asking.” Aiko- _san_ smiles, sweet and motherly. “Do you want to meet your future father-in-law?”

_My what?!_

Atsumu can’t help but turn to Kiyoomi, face as red as tomato. He can’t believe his boyfriend and him is having a FaceTime call with his family while he’s got Kiyoomi’s cock buried in his ass. _What the fuck_. His sleepiness is fully gone, replaced by shame.

One of these days, he’s going to ban his shameless boyfriend from touching him. He _swears_.

“U-Uh,” Atsumu stutters belatedly, cheeks pink. “I guess?”

A man looking like the older version of Kiyoomi appears on the screen, the only thing missing are the moles on the forehead. They don’t really look _the same_ but the eyes, the nose, the way his lips quirks into a smile is all the same as Kiyoomi and Atsumu is a little star-struck. He also has a beard which— uh… Atsumu thinks he can now picture how Kiyoomi would look with a full on beard and _wow_.

“Are you Atsumu-kun?” Kiyoomi’s father asks and Atsumu blinks at him, wide-eyed. The man smiles, continues, “I’m Sakusa Hiromi. You can call me Hiromi.”

“Or father,” Shiomi pipes in.

“Yeah, or father,” Hiromi- _san_ laughs, eyes crinkling, his laugh lines visible.

Atsumu blushes, smiles shyly, “Nice to meet you, Hiromi- _san_. I am Atsumu. A-As you already know!”

Why does this happen all the time? Does Kiyoomi hate Atsumu? Does he want Atsumu to be known as the stockings wearing, cock-warming boyfriend of one Sakusa Kiyoomi? Why is his life a tragic comedy? Is Shakespeare writing his life story?!

Atsumu wants to ask these questions to someone. More specifically, he wants to ask these questions to his boyfriend but he can’t because his boyfriend’s family is smiling at him so sweetly, so _welcoming_ he almost forgets the cock buried deep inside his ass. _Fuck_.

“See? He’s cute! If I could just steal him from Kiyoomi,” Shiomi ponders loudly, obviously teasing her little brother.

“Goodbye,” Kiyoomi ends the call rudely and Atsumu blinks at the screen, surprised at how it ended just like that.

“Ah?”

“Shiomi was just annoying me. No need to call back,” Kiyoomi says, like hanging-up on his parents is no big deal. If Atsumu has done that with his mom, his mom would probably have driven from Kobe to Osaka just to hit him with a slipper. _Ouch_.

Atsumu, realizing that they don’t have an audience anymore, immediately starts hitting his boyfriend. Fuck being injured, this horny ass doesn’t know what _privacy_ is.

“Why did you answer Shiomi’s call?! While we’re in this position!” Atsumu squishes his boyfriend’s cheeks harshly, making him look like a pufferfish, eyes wide and lips formed into a squished circle.

At seeing what his boyfriend looks like, Atsumu starts giggling, losing grip on Kiyoomi’s face. Kiyoomi pouts at him, rubbing his now red cheeks.

“That hurt,” Kiyoomi says, bottom lip jutting out into a pitiful pout.

Atsumu pouts back, crosses his arms in front of his chest as he tries to glare at his boyfriend. It’s impossible really because Kiyoomi is too cute and Atsumu is weak for him.

So Atsumu huffs and says, “Why did you do that?”

Kiyoomi avoids his eyes, his ears turning red, jaw clenching lightly. A sign of him hiding something.

“She was calling. I answered.”

“You’re lying,” Atsumu frowns, brows furrowing. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Kiyoomi looks at him quickly, meeting his eyes. He says, “It’s not bad. I promise.”

Atsumu stares at him for a few seconds before sighing, dropping his forehead on Kiyoomi’s shoulder.

“I believe you.”

“Thank you.”

“You still risked us getting caught,” Atsumu frowns, sitting up once again.

“You were sleeping. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to move you.” Kiyoomi says, tucking stray hairs behind his ears. His eyes are soft, honest.

Atsumu isn’t _that_ mad, just— embarrassed. After all, it’s better than the last time where Shiomi has caught them fucking against the wall. This time, it’s only them who knows what’s going on. Still, something could have happened. Like dropping the phone down or _something_.

In the back of his head, Atsumu knows Kiyoomi will never let that happen. He would never intentionally break the trust that Atsumu has given him. And that’s why the worries Atsumu has disappears one by one, leaving only the feeling of Kiyoomi’s cock nestled inside his tight walls.

“It was a good sleep,” Atsumu admits, shifting around. Kiyoomi’s cock inside his ass moves too, hitting his prostate. Atsumu moans at the slight brush, body shuddering.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi groans, hands gentle on Atsumu’s waist.

“Omi,” Atsumu mouths at Kiyoomi’s lips, their breaths mingling. “Fuck me?”

Kiyoomi kisses his lips lightly before pulling back, whispering, “Are you sure?”

Atsumu nods, pulling Kiyoomi close to him. “‘m sure.” Then he adds, “Come inside, okay?”

Kiyoomi stills then, looking at Atsumu with wide eyes. His cock twitches inside Atsumu, _very interested._ “No condom?”

Atsumu giggles, clenching his hole around Kiyoomi’s cock, shaking his head, “No condom.”

“I’ll help clean after,” Kiyoomi promises and before Atsumu can say anything, he flips their position, Atsumu on his back, holding onto Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi hovering over him, cock slipping out at their movements.

“No,” Atsumu whines. “Don’t take it out.”

“Shh, sorry,” Kiyoomi pushes his cock back inside Atsumu’s tight hole, both of them groaning at the feeling.

“Omi,” Atsumu moans, hugging Kiyoomi tighter to him. “So good.”

Kiyoomi buries his face on Atsumu’s neck, sucking a mark on his skin before he murmurs, “More?”

“ _More,”_ Atsumu pleads, bucking his hips up to meet Kiyoomi’s lazy thrusts.

Without saying anything, Kiyoomi starts fucking Atsumu hard and fast, pushing his cock inside his tight walls deeper and faster, the sound of his cock going in and out of Atsumu’s wet hole mingling with his own pleasured groans and Atsumu’s loud moans.

Atsumu can _feel_ Kiyoomi’s cock drag in and out of him, the pre-come dripping on the tip, the way it twitches when Atsumu clenches his ass, the way the veins on his cock _throbs_ every time he pushes deeper, fucking Atsumu silly. It feels so good, so different.

Atsumu _loves it_.

When Kiyoomi brushes his prostate, Atsumu groans loudly as he meets Kiyoomi’s thrusts while pumping his own cock with one hand, following Kiyoomi’s pace. His stomach clenches as his orgasm nears, Kiyoomi’s cock unrelenting and unforgiving, not giving Atsumu any rest, abusing his wet hole, fucking him like how he likes to be fucked.

“You want my come?” Kiyoomi grunts, hoists Atsumu’s legs on his shoulders and bends Atsumu over in half as he hovers over him.

Atsumu is delirious as Kiyoomi continues to fuck him, cock brushing his prostate now and then, pushing in slow and deep, then fast and shallow.

“I want—“ Atsumu nods, panting. He cries out again when Kiyoomi focuses his thrusts on his prostate, driving his cock harder and deeper, like he’s trying to make Atsumu remember the shape of his cock a day or a week even after they’re done. “I want your… come… inside.”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi bites at Atsumu thighs hard, teeth digging on his skin, a bruise blooming immediately.

Atsumu cries, hiccups as he moans, “Yeah, yeah. Want it.”

“Okay… babe,” Kiyoomi stutters, fucking Atsumu even faster as he chases his orgasm.

Atsumu’s moans becomes louder as he strokes his cock even faster. He looks up at Kiyoomi and he’s met with Kiyoomi’s dark gaze, looking at him, lust-filled, _hungry_. He looks like he’s going to devour Atsumu and leave nothing after. Atsumu sobs, pumps his cock a few times before his body shudders and his cock spurts white come on his stomach and hands. He continues to stroke his cock, milking his orgasm. When his cock has let out all that it could, Atsumu lets it go.

Even when Atsumu is coming, Kiyoomi doesn’t relent, fucking Atsumu fast and shallow, shoving his cock deeper inside Atsumu’s tight hole. And when Atsumu comes down from his high, he continues to moan and shudder, body trembling at the overstimulation. He starts crying but doesn’t tell Kiyoomi to stop, the pleasure and pain mixing in his body makes his cock twitch again against his stomach. He sobs, holds on to Kiyoomi as Kiyoomi fucks him a couple more times before coming inside, painting Atsumu’s walls with white liquid. It feels _different_ , the warm liquid directly splashing inside him, the way Kiyoomi’s cock twitches as it empties everything inside Atsumu, the way Atsumu wants _more more more_.

Atsumu whines as Kiyoomi thrusts shallowly inside him until his cock is soft. And when he starts pulling out, Atsumu shakes his head, eyes teary as he clenches his gaping hole around Kiyoomi’s cock.

“Don’t. No. Omi,” Atsumu’s lower lip trembles, a tear falling down the side of his face.

“Okay, okay,” Kiyoomi shushes him, pushes back inside. Atsumu moans at the feeling, breathing in, out.

“Wanna stay like this,” Atsumu says as Kiyoomi lowers his legs back on the bed, massaging his thighs lightly.

“To sleep?” Kiyoomi asks, brows furrowed.

“ _Please?”_ Atsumu begs, pouting. He knows it’s filthy and it’s probably smart to clean up right away but Atsumu wants to stay like this a bit longer. Just— a little longer.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” Kiyoomi asks, still massaging his thighs.

“A little,” Atsumu admits and quickly adds, “Just a little bit, OmiOmi?”

“Okay, ‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi relents, pressing a kiss on his forehead. “A little bit.”

Atsumu smiles, happy. He closes his eyes and relaxes.

A little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back @ posting everyday until the end!!! next chap is also two kinks in one bc they go together 😳👉🏼👈🏼


	20. and you deserve it (you earned it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 21: MASTER/SLAVE** & **DAY 22: OVERSTIMULATION**
>
>> “Your name—”
>> 
>> “Yeah,” Kiyoomi sucked a mark on his neck, tongue licking it after. “Is it okay?”
>> 
>> “More than okay,” Atsumu breathed out, hands shaking as he traced Kiyoomi’s name on the inside of the collar. Yes, he loved it. He’d wear the collar proudly. “I love it.”
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **—** hi guys! so sorry i said everyday im back but things happened so, here i am,,,, yeah,, i actually planned to combined the last kinks together so from here on expect two kinks in one or maybe one kink only! dunno what my brain would give me lol  
>  **ps:** also changed this chap into past tense,, for some reason,,, lol ???  
>  **psps:** this is all fictional okay guys,,, theres no bdsm club in ebisu,,i mean if there was then,, lol anyways, they don't do intense stuff here bc their knowledge + experience as master/slave or even bdsm in general is limited. kiyoomi is as inexperience as atsumu when it comes to bdsm so theyre just experimenting!!! also, dont do this @ home????? idk ???? be careful if you do??????

It started months before they became official, when Atsumu saw Kiyoomi’s internet history and he just— _got curious_. So he piled his internet history with the same words, the same topics, the same _interests_. And he couldn’t stop thinking of _possibilities,_ even before he held Kiyoomi’s hands to his neck, allowing the other to take his breath away. _Literally_.

Atsumu was a curious person in nature and he liked to experience different things that gave him the thrill that he wanted, gave different feelings, _different emotions._ And Atsumu might not have done a lot of things in his… _hoe phase_ but he’d done enough to say that he was _experience_.

_This_ though was different and it had Atsumu’s blood singing.

* * *

It continued when Kiyoomi asked him about his Valentine’s Day plans which— well, _stupid_ because Atsumu’s Valentine’s Day plan was Kiyoomi and his monster dick and a bottle of whipped cream. Something along those lines.

So Atsumu answered him, “You.”

Kiyoomi had stared at him for a long time before saying, voice flat, “Romantic.”

Atsumu laughed then, pecking his lips, “I know I am, OmiOmi.”

Kiyoomi, weak to Atsumu’s affections, kissed him back, brief, then says, “Clear your schedule that week. I have plans.”

“With me?” Atsumu pointed at himself, brows rising high up his forehead. Kiyoomi nodded while massaging the nape of Atsumu’s neck. “For a week?” Again, Kiyoomi nodded. “I guess I can use my vacation days…”

It just happened that there wasn’t any major games that month, just training and developing new techniques. Coincidence? Perhaps.

Kiyoomi nodded once again, humming, “Yeah, I already used mine for it.”

“Huh.” Atsumu breathed out, dumbfounded. “Well… okay.”

And a week before their vacation, Kiyoomi’s ankle now fully healed, the other had taken him to a date before sitting him on their sofa with the intention of talking. Kiyoomi talked to him, calm and collected with his eyes dark, determined. Atsumu stared at him, anticipation buzzing in his veins, arousal spiking in his stomach. Atsumu knew what that look meant and it had him gulping, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth.

Kiyoomi started, hands holding Atsumu’s own, “Remember when you told me you were curious about BDSM?”

Atsumu immediately remembered that one brief time, in between casual talks, when he mentionedbeing curious about how BDSM—especially the Master and Slave relationship—worked and how it would be fun to try it just once. It was just a passing mention, not even worth thinking about at that time but apparently, Kiyoomi remembered and now Atsumu was turning into a tomato, shy, embarrassed.

“Uhm,” Atsumu cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah… I guess. Why?”

“Do you want to see how it works?” Kiyoomi asked, a little tremble in his voice.

Atsumu blinked, heart thudding wildly inside his chest. “Excuse me?”

“A BDSM club. Do you want to go?” Kiyoomi clarified and Atsumu’s eyes couldn’t help but widen.

“A _what_ club?” Atsumu said, surprised. “How—When— Ha?”

Kiyoomi rubbed soothing circles on his knuckles then, forefingers pressed on the pulse point on his wrists. Atsumu knew Kiyoomi could feel how his pulse is beating just a tad bit faster, reacting to the emotions swirling inside him.

“The other day, when Shiomi called and I had to answer, it was because of this.” Kiyoomi answered, voice levelled. “She knew someone who operates that kind of… _club_ in Tokyo.”

Atsumu shouldn’t be so surprised that Shiomi knew someone in the BDSM scene but— well, he still was surprised because Kiyoomi asked his sister about it and maybe was privy to their bedroom shenanigans. Atsumu forced himself to not redden even further.

“Huh,” Atsumu wanted to say a lot of things but he could only breathe out in disbelief, blinking rapidly, trying to _make sense_ of things.

“Hey,” Kiyoomi tugged on his hands, breaking him out of his thoughts. “If you’re not interested anymore, it’s fine.”

Atsumu was _plenty interested_ but— somehow, for sometime now, it felt like Kiyoomi was just giving in to his whims, like Atsumu was always _demanding_ things from him and Kiyoomi was always so quick to say _yes_. It felt _weird,_ unbalanced.

Atsumu felt just a little bit like he was taking advantage of Kiyoomi.

He said so.

“Omi… ya know, ya always say it’s fine when I ask ya to do things… Don’t you feel—“ Atsumu furrowed his brows, looked down at their joined hands while chewing on his lower lip. He didn’t know how to _say_ it.

“I want to,” Kiyoomi quickly answered, filling in the blanks of what Atsumu couldn’t say. He held Atsumu’s cheeks with both of his warm calloused hands. “Don’t you know? What you like, I like.”

“I don’t wanna take advantage—“

“You aren’t. I want to try this too. I was just too cowardly to say it and you were brave enough to tell me.” Kiyoomi said, pads of his thumbs rubbing Atsumu’s red cheeks.

“Oh,” Atsumu breathed out, met Kiyoomi’s dark eyes. “I see.”

Kiyoomi’s lips quirked into a small smile, “Yeah.”

“Then,” Atsumu held Kiyoomi’s wrists, squeezing lightly. “We’re going to Tokyo next week?”

Kiyoomi’s smile morphed into a grin then and Atsumu couldn’t help but bask in the beautiful sight. His boyfriend nodded, confirmed,

“We’re going to Tokyo.”

* * *

It came to a climax in Tokyo. Double entendre intended.

Atsumu had been in Tokyo plenty of times before. He liked the city _fine enough_ but not _much_. The city was too _busy_ and people were always in a _hurry. Hyogo_ was still better. Not that he had anytime to appreciate Tokyo before or now. Upon landing in Tokyo, Kiyoomi had taken them quickly to his Tokyo apartment which baffled Atsumu _once again_. He wished he had apartments in different cities. The rich were ridiculous. On top of that, it was in _Roppongi Hills_ where people could only dream of living. _What the fuck_.

“Does Shiomi live here too?” Atsumu asked when they entered the spacious apartment, clean and warm.

Kiyoomi looked at him at that question, nose scrunching in distaste as if the thought of Shiomi living in the same building disgusted him.

“No,” he answered, frowning. “She lives with our parents in _Aoyama_.”

Atsumu didn’t know where that was so he only nodded, humming. “Okay.”

He’d love to describe how _marvellous_ the apartment was and how high up in the building they were but Atsumu couldn’t even focus on anything because once he’d finished showering, Kiyoomi handed him a box, light in weight, medium in size.

“What is this, Omi?”

“A gift.”

Atsumu, wrapped in fluffy white bathrobe and hair still wet from the shower, looked at the box suspiciously because the last time his boyfriend gave him a box as a gift, he ended up in a fox outfit.

“Can I open it?” Atsumu asked, fingering the edges of the black box.

Kiyoomi settled behind him, hooked his chin on Atsumu’s shoulder before whispering against his ears, “Of course, baby.”

Atsumu shivered, pulse jumping at Kiyoomi’s close proximity. And with trembling hands, he settled the box on the bed before slowly opening it, holding his breath in anticipation.

The items in the box should have been expected, base on the reason why they were in Tokyo. Still, as was becoming the norm, Atsumu remained surprised, letting out a choking sound when the contents finally graces his eyes.

“Your outfit,” Kiyoomi explained, one hand landing on Atsumu’s waist, the other reaching out to rub the leather material of the harness that resided in the box. “For the club.”

Atsumu gulped loudly, examining the box properly. His fingers took out the black harness first, thick and sturdy, with parts that Atsumu didn’t know where they should go—shoulders? chest? neck?, all he knew is that it’s for his upper body. Again, Atsumu swallowed, throat bobbing as he clutched the thick material.

“This,” Kiyoomi joined Atsumu’s hand on holding the harness, nails scraping the surface of it lightly. “Is your top. I know it’s winter out there but you’re going to be wearing a thick coat over this until we get to the club. Is that fine?”

Atsumu nodded, couldn’t find his voice as he became distracted by the collar that was hiding under the harness. He picked it up, both hands admiring the leather of it, the metal in the middle where a leash could be attached into cold to the touch. And when he fingers the inside, he can feel the dip of the letters embedded on it. Squinting his eyes and taking a closer look at it, he could barely make out the characters of Kiyoomi’s name.

_Fuck_.

“Your name—”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi sucked a mark on his neck, tongue licking it after. “Is it okay?”

“More than okay,” Atsumu breathed out, hands shaking as he traced Kiyoomi’s name on the inside of the collar. _Yes_ , he loved it. He’d wear the collar proudly. “I love it.”

“Good.” Kiyoomi smiled against his skin, creating goosebumps where he touched.

Atsumu put the collar to the side and looked at the next item: a ball gag. Atsumu understood his role today or this week— however long they were going to keep this up. He didn’t particularly care because he knew Kiyoomi would take care of him. He trusted Kiyoomi to break him into pieces and make him whole again.

When Atsumu picked the ball gag, Kiyoomi started speaking,

“Is it alright if you have the gag the whole time we’re at the club? We’re going to be there…” He hummed and Atsumu listened carefully while appreciating the black ball attached to the strap. “Maybe an hour or two. Alright?”

Atsumu turned to Kiyoomi, holding the ball gag in between their faces, “Ya just wanna shut me up.” He joked, bottom lip jutting out into a small pout.

Kiyoomi smiled at him, expression indulgent, “Well, that _and_ you’d look hot with it.”

“Of course,” Atsumu rolled his eyes and turns to the box once again.

The last item was a leather pants with slit and ribbons on the side that could be tightened or loosened depending on what one wanted. Atsumu guessed Kiyoomi would want it as tight as possible, hugging Atsumu’s thighs tightly, outlining his cock and the shape of his ass.

“I can already feel my ass suffocating,” Atsumu said, turning the pants here and there while Kiyoomi buried his face on his neck, snickering at his words.

“You can always go without it,” Kiyoomi murmured on his skin, mouthing at the warm flesh.

Atsumu shuddered at Kiyoomi’s ministrations, clutching the leather pants tightly. “You’d let me?” Atsumu asked, teasing. “Ya want other people to see me naked, OmiOmi?”

Kiyoomi picked his head up from Atsumu’s neck before saying, a frown on his lips, tone dark, “No.”

“Possessive,” Atsumu joked, discarding the pants on the bed before turning and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “What’s there to worry ‘bout? I only like ya.”

Kiyoomi’s brows furrowed deeper and his lips pulled into a tight line, “You’re popular.”

Atsumu blinked at him then giggled, pressing a long kiss on Kiyoomi’s lips. Kiyoomi immediately kissed back, clutching Atsumu’s body closer, shoving his tongue inside, mapping the inside of Atsumu’s mouth.

Pulling back, Atsumu breathed in, out, mouthing at Kiyoomi’s lips. “I only like ya,” Atsumu repeated. “‘m only yours.”

Kiyoomi smiled, pulled him into another deep kiss before saying, a command, “Get dressed.”

Atsumu’s whole body shivered and his cock twitched at the change in Kiyoomi’s tone. The hands on his waist squeezed tightly, almost painful, _bruising_. Atsumu basked in it, the feeling of being _owned_.

So it began.

Before they leave Tokyo, the both of them hashed out the last informations about what they were about to partake in. Kiyoomi even wrote a _contract_ for the whole week they were going to be _master_ and _slave_. Atsumu took it seriously, had read about how important understanding each other was, how legal contracts were mostly included in this kind of relationship. After all, _something_ could happen; an accident, a scene gone wrong, not knowing boundaries and many more. And so they sign the contract, _just in case_.

Atsumu couldn’t help but admire Kiyoomi’s dedication in giving Atsumu what Atsumu thought was just a passing fancy. Now that he was faced with it, the once passing fancy lit into a wildfire and Atsumu thought he could get used to this, to being taken care of, being told of what and what not to do. It made his blood hum under his skin, made his mind go hazy in _want_.

The club was located in a high end building in _Ebisu_ and only those who had a membership could enter. Meaning, only those who could afford that big amount of _fee_ would be able to see what really was inside; only the _rich_ who had some extra money to throw at a fetish club was allowed to come. Atsumu wondered how much Kiyoomi paid for this; a week of pleasure, a week of both of them learning.

Arriving at the club, the both of them were ushered inside quickly. But inside wasn’t inside. They go through a few sets of stairs, down a few dark corridors while the film of smoke surrounding the place continued thickening the closer they get to the actual club.

Atsumu was decked in _all leather_ sans the ball gag that Kiyoomi would put in his mouth once they were inside. The harness wrapped around his body wasn’t tight, it’s a little loose, comfortable, fitting perfectly on the dips of his muscled chest. The leather of his pants creaked every time he moved and the strings on the side dug on his skin, creating red indents. His half-hard cock under the tight fabric was leaking pre-come and the small egg shaped vibrator in his ass hummed softly, quietly. Atsumu’s nerve endings were _blazing_ and his mind demands for him to _beg_ Kiyoomi to make him come _just once_. But he didn’t. All he did was follow Kiyoomi, tight-lipped while arousal continued to build inside him.

Kiyoomi was decked in all black; black leather shoes, black pants, black button-up shirt, black formal jacket, black mask that was pulled down to his chin, allowing a perfect view of his usually covered face. A part of his hair was slicked back, accentuating the high of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his jaw, and the long line of his neck. His whole figure looked confident, _imposing_ and dominating. He looked _fuckable_ and he looked like he could ruin Atsumu with just a word.

And despite disliking this habit of him, Atsumu couldn’t help but drool at the image of Kiyoomi with a cigarette between his red lips. Every time he took a drag off his cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke in front of him, Atsumu’s mouth watered, like he wanted that smoke blown inside his mouth, breathing in until it made him breathless. He gulped, watched as Kiyoomi talked to the person who greeted them by the door. The guy was dressed riskier than Atsumu, wearing shorts with a hole on the back, his ass bare for everyone to see. A rolled whip was attached to his hip, held by the ends of the harness covering his torso. Atsumu thought he could be a _dungeon master_ , someone who took care of the newbies and who took the role of a security inside the club.

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu halted into a sudden stop, looking up at Kiyoomi and the dungeon master who stood in front of a door. Atsumu gulped, knowing what was behind it but also _not knowing_ because this was his first time; his and Kiyoomi’s first time doing this.

“Om—” Atsumu started and stopped at Kiyoomi’s raised eyebrow. His eyes widened before he stuttered, blush high on his cheeks, “M-Master.”

A quiet laugh reached his ears then, almost drowned out by the music playing in the background. Atsumu looked at the dungeon master, heart in his throat, fingers clenching and unclenching beside him.

“You two are cute together,” He said and Atsumu blushed deeper. Kiyoomi hummed, took a deep drag from his cigarette as he studied Atsumu. “Enjoy being here Sakusa- _sama_. If you have any questions, please ask any dungeon master inside.” He said before opening the door and adding with a dramatic flourish, “Welcome to our world.”

Atsumu would have giggled at his words and actions but his heart is beating so rapidly, he couldn’t focus on _anything_ but the door creaking as it opened. Kiyoomi’s gaze on him is dark, hungry, taking in Atsumu’s trembling figure. And then Kiyoomi took the ball gag out and Atsumu _fell_ , with Kiyoomi’s brand around his neck.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi entered slowly. A leash was connected to Atsumu’s collar and the ball gag is preventing him from saying anything or making any sounds that wasn’t a moan or a groan. The inside was bathed in red and black, some spotlights focusing on particular objects and scene. Atsumu followed Kiyoomi around, feet bare as they pad towards where a woman was crying and screaming, surrounded by some spectators, while another woman lands a whip on her ass.

At first glance, it looked like a punishment but the more the whip lands on her skin, the louder her cries and moans get. Atsumu’s cock twitched at the sight, imagining him and Kiyoomi in their place, imagining how Kiyoomi would look just as composed as the woman holding the whip, eyes merciless yet caring.

“You like that?” Kiyoomi whispered behind Atsumu, hand coming to his waist, gloved fingers digging on his skin.

Atsumu’s body trembled, his hands shaking as he reached back and clutched Kiyoomi’s shirt on his hands. He made a noise as he nodded, maybe a moan or a groan or in-between. Kiyoomi chuckled against his ears, a gloved hand trailing down to cup the obvious tent under his pants. Atsumu could feel his cock leak pre-come, staining the leather pants. Kiyoomi continued to palm his cock, in front of everyone, under the harsh red light. It made Atsumu’s mind go crazy, his legs shaking as he held onto Kiyoomi’s shirt tighter, the desire simmering under his skin making itself fully known.

“People are watching you,” Kiyoomi then tugged at his leash, his head tilting to the side as teeth nipped on the skin under his collar. “You like being watched don’t you?”

Atsumu blinked his eyes and looked around, finding some people glancing at them. He squirmed at the attention, body flushing red as eyes continued to stare at how Kiyoomi controlled him, how Kiyoomi reduced him into a shaking mess with just a few touch. He let out another muffled moan, pushing his ass back towards Kiyoomi’s crotch, feeling his boyfriend’s dick straining against the constraints of his pants.

And then all touch was gone and Atsumu was left _wanting_ for more. He whined and looked back at Kiyoomi, drool slipping down his chin, ball gag wet with his spit.

“Come,” Kiyoomi tugged on the leash once again and Atsumu followed Kiyoomi’s back, looking down on the floor, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes.

When Kiyoomi stopped, Atsumu stopped too, feet halting on the cold floor. He swallowed around the ball gag as he watched Kiyoomi talk to another dungeon master for a few seconds before he settled on the black leather couch, crossing his legs as he tugged on Atsumu’s leash once again. Atsumu stared at him, waited in bated breath for another command.

“Come,” Kiyoomi repeated and Atsumu was placed on his lap gently, his back to Kiyoomi’s chest.

Atsumu immediately squirmed around, finding a comfortable position on his _master’s_ lap before settling down when Kiyoomi held his weight harshly, stopping all movements. His ass pressed hard against Kiyoomi’s clothed hard cock, the small buzzing vibrator inside him jostling against his walls, ripping another muffled moan out of his gagged lips. And at Kiyoomi’s harsh manhandling, Atsumu’s heart stuttered at the force, cock pressing even more against his leather pants. He wanted more friction inside him and on his cock but Kiyoomi wouldn’t let him and Atsumu could only shake on his lap.

“Settle down,” Kiyoomi whispered against his ears, soft but commanding.

Atsumu froze, breath hitching. He nodded after a beat, forcing his body to relax on Kiyoomi’s hold.

“Look,” Kiyoomi turned his attention to a couple, voice soft. Atsumu could see someone _crawling_ on the floor, on all fours, following their master that was holding the leash connected to their collar. He watched as the _master_ petted the _slave_ while talking to another person with another collared submissive beside them.

It was all so— casual, nothing out of the ordinary. Atsumu thought he’d flush or blush at the sight but he didn’t, only felt arousal rising from deep within him, burning hot and spreading all throughout his body. Here, there’s nothing that was _taboo_. Anything was possible as long as your imagination was active.

Squirming a little on Kiyoomi’s lap, Atsumu nuzzled his cheek against Kiyoomi’s own before Kiyoomi directed his attention to another scene. There was someone hanging on a… cross— _weird_ —with vibrators shove deep in his ass. Atsumu thought that must had been a _stretch_ , his hole gaping and wet and hungry for more.

The thoughts in his mind, the scenes unfolding in front of him made Atsumu _restless_ , his cock demanding for any friction. And because he didn’t care for being a _brat_ , Atsumu started riding his master’s thighs, pressing his clothed ass against Kiyoomi’s clothed cock. It _felt_ good, the way every time he moved, the vibrator in his ass pressed even deeper, brushing against his prostate. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted Kiyoomi’s touch.

_omiomiomi_ , Atsumu wanted to say but the gag in his mouth prevented him. Kiyoomi held his waist tightly but didn’t stop him from moving, fingers digging on his skin. He panted against Atsumu’s ear, licking his earlobe as Atsumu humped his thighs.

Atsumu could feel more eyes on them but he was too far gone to care if they see him come from Kiyoomi’s touch. His hand moved to his front, on top of his clothed cock, intending to stroke and relieve himself but then Kiyoomi took a hold of his wrist, said,

“Come like this.”

Atsumu moaned against the gag, movements erratic as he shuddered and spilled inside his pants, his cock spurting come, staining his front. His body trembled for a while, pleasure coursing through his veins as he came down from his high. Kiyoomi held him through it, fingers tight on his wrists. And when Atsumu blinked his eyes open, once again aware of his surroundings, Kiyoomi said,

“Again.”

_Again?_

Atsumu let out a sob when Kiyoomi shoved his gloved hand inside his pants, and stroked his softening cock into hardness once more. His body jerked, sensitive and when he blinked his eyelids, his eyelashes were damp, tears gathering in his eyes.

“One more,” Kiyoomi urged, pumping Atsumu’s cock in the semi-darkness of the club.

His cock filled up once again, hard in Kiyoomi’s calloused hand. With a twist of Kiyoomi’s wrist, Atsumu cried out, hips jerking and bucking into Kiyoomi’s hand. Kiyoomi moved his hands fast and hard, grip tight while his thumb pressed on his slit, spreading the pre-come drooling from the head of his cock. Atsumu’s legs shake from sensitivity, he didn’t know if he could even come right away after coming just a few minutes ago. But Kiyoomi was persistent, fingers wrapped around Atsumu’s cock stroking up and down, relentless as he forced another mind numbing orgasm from Atsumu’s cock. Atsumu’s eyes started leaking tears when he released again, his cock spurting a small amount of come on Kiyoomi’s gloved covered hand.

“Good boy,” Kiyoomi praised, hand still moving up and down Atsumu’s cock, milking his orgasm. Atsumu started trembling hard, cock overstimulated, mind couldn’t even separate pain and pleasure anymore.

When finally Kiyoomi let go of his spent cock, Atsumu breathed out a sigh of relief, his tongue licking at the ball gag wrapped around his lips. More spit trail down his chin and his jaw started to ache but he didn’t do anything, didn’t tap his hand twice on Kiyoomi’s cheek, his indication to stop the scene. Because Atsumu wanted to see this through the end and he wanted to see how far Kiyoomi would take him, how far he’d go to _break_ him.

“Down,” Kiyoomi said, hoisting Atsumu’s body out of his lap.

Atsumu blinked, dazed. He looked at Kiyoomi, tried to swallow the saliva pooling on his tongue. Kiyoomi looked at him, eyes dark, _intense_. Atsumu’s cock gave a pathetic twitch at Kiyoomi’s lust filled gaze.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi smiled then pointed to the floor. “Down.”

_Oh_.

Atsumu slid himself to the ground, beside Kiyoomi’s legs. He folded his legs under him, his ass sitting on his heels as he looked up at Kiyoomi who was watching him get comfortable on the cold floor. Kiyoomi’s lips quirked into a smile, soft. Despite being in a BDSM club and performing acts that otherwise they wouldn’t do normally if they were with other people, Kiyoomi could still smile at him softly, still look at him _lovingly_. It was a bit disconcerting, knowing that this man made him come twice in the span of thirty minutes. _Fuck_.

Shuffling on the floor, Atsumu placed his hands on Kiyoomi’s thigh gently, looking at Kiyoomi questioningly, asking for permission. Kiyoomi smiled once again and dropped a hand on top of his head, then down to the nape of his neck, rubbing the skin not covered by his collar. Atsumu laid his cheek on Kiyoomi’s thighs then, nuzzling the fabric of his pants before settling down, eyes roaming around.

By now, no one was really paying attention to them. A few submissives looked at him but nothing more. Here, they who sat on the floor were no more than _slaves_ to the one holding their leashes. But there wasn’t any judgement in their gazes, only curiosity. Atsumu liked it here, the atmosphere, the red lights that don’t blink, just a steady presence illuminating the club, the people who cried and moaned and crawled and showed their desire in the open.

It almost felt like freedom.

Atsumu thought he could get used to his, here with his Kiyoomi, with his cheek on his thigh, sitting on the cold floor. Atsumu began feeling comfortable and that was his mistake.

When Kiyoomi’s hand stopped rubbing his neck, he should’ve known something was _coming._ But Atsumu continued to let his eyes roam around, heart thudding steady inside his chest.

And that was when the small egg vibrator inside of him started to buzz wildly. Atsumu sat up quickly, ass planting on the ground. That too, was a mistake because the vibrator only jostled inside him, pressing more incessantly against his prostate. Atsumu moaned against the gag on his mouth, more drool sliding down his chin, covering his neck. Body trembling like a wave of tsunami was going to fall upon him, he looked up at Kiyoomi who only smiled at him, remote on his hand. The vibrator inside his ass buzzed even more and this time, Atsumu let out a series of muffled moans, clutching Kiyoomi’s thighs tightly, nails digging on the fabric of his pants.

Atsumu’s cock twitched but it’s futile, there was nothing more he could give Kiyoomi. And yet, Kiyoomi watched him, sobbing against his thighs, tears leaking from his eyes, as his prostate was abused, hips twitching violently with overstimulation.

He wanted to say _no no omi no_ but Atsumu could only cry and moan against the ball gag, the spit on his chin rubbing on Kiyoomi’s pants, wetting it.

“You look like a mess,” Kiyoomi grabbed his chin, gloved fingers pressing on his wet cheeks. “Let’s see if you can come again, okay?”

Atsumu shook his head, his chest heaving up and down harshly, trying to get more air down his lungs.

“Shall I take the gag off?” Kiyoomi asked, didn’t wait for an answer and took the gag off Atsumu’s mouth carefully.

Atsumu’s cries and moans could now be heard clearly. Kiyoomi rubbed his jaw soothingly, helping him alleviate the pain from having his mouth open for too long. But Atsumu didn’t even pay attention to it, the buzzing inside his wet hole overwhelming, making him want to _come_ but it felt too— _too much_.

“ _Omi,_ ” Atsumu finally wailed, holding Kiyoomi’s hand on his, fingers squeezing tightly.

“One more,” Kiyoomipulled Atsumu back on his lap and his gloved hand once again wraps around Atsumu’s cock.

Atsumu’s cock gave a small twitch, his stomach constricting when Kiyoomi started to pump his cock again.

“ _I can’t,”_ Atsumu cried, face buried on Kiyoomi’s chest.

“You can,” Kiyoomi assured, thumb pressing on Atsumu’s cock head.

A familiar but uncomfortable feeling rushed through Atsumu’s body. He hiccuped, body shaking when Kiyoomi pumped his cock, once, twice, thrice and Atsumu came, body convulsing. But nothing came out, only the moans come out of his mouth.

Again, Atsumu had a _dry orgasm_. And on a BDSM club at that.

His mind numbed, floating somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. It took him longer to come down this time and when he finally did, Kiyoomi had him in his embrace, hand stroking his back up and down soothingly.

Atsumu made a noise, rubbing his face on Kiyoomi’s shoulder.

“Omi?”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi didn’t stop rubbing his back, touch gentle. “Are you okay?”

Atsumu blinked, stared at someone crawling on the floor, the red lights suddenly harsh on his puffy eyes.

“Yeah,” Atsumu croaked, voice hoarse.

“Was it too much?” Kiyoomi asked, fingers now threading through Atsumu’s dyed hair.

Atsumu shook his head, murmured, “No. It was… nice.”

A breath of relief rushes out of Kiyoomi before he said, “I thought I hurt you.”

“I would’ve let you know.” Atsumu admonished, smiling against Kiyoomi’s shirt.

“I know. But still—“

“I liked it,” Atsumu grinned, picked his head up from Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “It was good.”

Kiyoomi breathed another sigh of relief and Atsumu couldn’t help but plant a kiss on his lips.

“Good,” Kiyoomi mumbled, and again, “That’s good.” Then, as if sensing Atsumu’s fatigue, suggested, “Let’s go back?”

Atsumu hummed, shifting on Kiyoomi’s hold. The harness on his body aren’t tight, a barely there feeling every time he moved. He nodded, whispered,

“Let’s go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sos osososoossosoo much for the comments and kudos and still liking this fic!!!! im sorry i cant reply to comments right now, my internet is actually very limited so im using 4g from my phone lol i'll reply soon!!! i just really wanna say thank you to everyone who continue to read this fic of mine written on a whim. thank you so much!!! ily all <33333


	21. i didn’t lead you on (we walked into the fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 23: BONDAGE/ROLE REVERSAL** & **DAY 24: MASTURBATION**
>
>> “You were an asshole,” Kiyoomi says, looking at him accusingly.
>> 
>> Atsumu grins at him, thumbs rubbing small circles on his cheeks. “I was.”
>> 
>> “But we could have had hate sex,” Kiyoomi purses his lips after saying that.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry for the wait. i was crying over orv 🤢  
>  **note: this chapter implies past!kuroo/atsumu so— just a heads up!**

The week they spend in Tokyo is— _exciting._ And surprising.

The club they went to apparently _does_ operate three times a week; on Wednesday, their first day of going there, on Friday and on Saturday. Atsumu, honestly, think it would have been _good enough_ to visit once but Kiyoomi is a learner and he wants to experience this with Atsumu so Atsumu goes with him willingly.

The second time they go, Atsumu is dressed more… _slutty_ , if he can describe his outfit like that. Short _shorts_ , a crop-top, leather boots, his collar, and without the gag this time around. And since people have seen them already that first day, Atsumu is less embarrassed in looking like _this_ and looking around the club.

What has surprised him though, is meeting someone that he haven’t thought of meeting in this kind of place.

On the floor, where he’s sitting beside Kiyoomi’s feet and laying his head on Kiyoomi’s thighs with Kiyoomi’s hands combing his hair, an unexpected person approaches them.

“Sakusa?”

Atsumu jolts at the familiar voice and when he looks up and sees that familiar face with that cat-like eyes and familiar messy black hair— Atsumu gulps.

“Kuroo?” Kiyoomi breathes out in surprise.

_The_ Kuroo Tetsurou is roaming around in a BDSM club? Uh— Atsumu’s brain malfunctions for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what’s—or rather, _who’s_ in front of him. Not only that but _Tetsu_ was once his— how should he call him, a _fling_? Yeah, a fling.

“Is that Atsumu?” Kuroo looks at him, eyebrows raised.

Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu then at Kuroo and again, back and forth between both of them. He can feel the tension thickening the longer Atsumu stairs at Kuroo and— well, he stays silent because Kiyoomi hasn’t told him to _speak_ yet.

“‘tsumu, you’re familiar?”

And now, Atsumu can speak but he doesn’t want to. He purses his lips, clenching and unclenching his fists laying on his lap. For a moment, Atsumu looks at Kuroo, studying his face, examining what he’s wearing, looking at his shoes just so he have more time to accept the situation happening in front of him. Said situation is meeting someone they _know_ in this _club_ where he’s thought they won’t be _caught_.

Huh.

Atsumu gulps, clears his throat, and lets out an awkward laugh, “Yeah, we’re uh— hmm… _acquaintances_.”

Kuroo cocks a brow at him, the handsome asshole, and smirks. “Hey, I took care of you every time you came to Tokyo for a game. I’m hurt.”

Atsumu wants to strangle him or throw a volleyball at his face just so he _shuts the fuck up_. He tries to send telepathic messages to Kuroo to not say anything but even when Atsumu’s eyes pleads for him to _don’t say shit,_ Kuroo still does and once upon a time, when Atsumu was naive and young and horny, he used to find that attractive but now? It just makes him annoyed. Tsk.

Hearing that, Kiyoomi’s hand falls on the back of Atsumu’s neck, just above his collar. His grip is strong, _tight_ , and Atsumu’s breath hitches because he knows this habit of Kiyoomi. It’s when he becomes _possessive_ or _jealous_. It’s cute.

And that’s why Atsumu continues to spout nonsense, because if he’s going to burn, might as well create a wildfire out of it.

“That was _before_. I was never satisfied,” Atsumu scowls then bites his lower lip, preventing his lips from quirking into a smirk.

Kiyoomi’s grip comes up to grip his hair tightly, then yanks his head up, forcing Atsumu to look up at Kiyoomi. Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi with faux innocence, eyes swimming with mirth. Seeing his expression, Kiyoomi cocks a brow at him, lips formed into a deep frown.

“Oho?” Kuroo laughs, deep and amused. Atsumu blinks at him, head still tilted back. “Am I interfering on something here?”

Kiyoomi’s brows furrows as he looks at Atsumu’s nearly sparkling eyes before sighing, like defeat. Atsumu swallows, heart beating wild.

“No,” Kiyoomi says, tugging his mask over half of his face. Then, with muffled voice, continues, “We’re just about to leave.”

“Ah,” Kuroo smiles, raises a hand in a wave. “Nice seeing you again, Sakusa, _Miya_. Let’s meet again when Japan Team gathers again, yeah?”

Kiyoomi nods, curt and Atsumu stops himself from cooing because he knows what’s happening here. And he admits he shouldn’t have done that because Kiyoomi is— is _sensitive_ to these kinds of things. Atsumu is just being a brat and now he’s going to pay the price.

So when Kiyoomi stands, Atsumu stands after, throwing Kuroo a polite glance before following behind Kiyoomi’s steady but long strides. He reaches out, grasp the ends of Kiyoomi’s jacket and doesn’t let go.

He smiles to himself. Atsumu thinks he just has to appease his boyfriend, don’t he? His Kiyoomi deserves to be pampered too, after all.

Yes, Atsumu has expected to be punished.

No, he doesn’t expect this kind of punishment.

It’s the scariest out of all punishments.

It’s the _silent treatment_.

From the moment they take the car until they enter the apartment, Kiyoomi has been quiet. He smiles at Atsumu’s jokes and he hums when Atsumu talks to him but he doesn’t say anything, seemingly lost in thought.

Atsumu doesn’t know what he’s thinking but he can guess. After all, he’s like this sometimes too. That feeling of being _jealous_.

He needs to let his boyfriend know that there’s no used in being _jealous_. Kiyoomi owns Atsumu’s heart. Plain and simple.

“Omi.”

A hum.

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu sing-songs.

Another hum.

“Master.”

Kiyoomi flinches a little before sighing and looking at Atsumu. They’re sitting on the white couch in the living room, bathed with the soft orange light of the ceiling lamp, dampened just a little.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, voice quiet.

“Talk to me.” Atsumu smiles, takes Kiyoomi’s hands in his.

Kiyoomi’s brows furrows deeply, eyes hesitant. Half of his face is still covered with the mask so Atsumu can’t gauge his reaction much but he if wants to guess, Kiyoomi’s lips are probably pulled into a deep frown, just like his brows. They come as a set, Atsumu knows by now.

“Are you jealous?” Atsumu tilts his head to the side. He shuffles on the couch, his shorts rubbing against his thighs.

A shrug.

Atsumu pouts at his boyfriend and tugs on his hands, intertwining their fingers. “Ya don’t have to be.” Kiyoomi’s eyes squints. Atsumu smiles. “Okay, ya have the rights to be but ya shouldn’t.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes shifts to his, questioning. Sometimes, Atsumu wonders how this very person confessed to him, has explained to him in _length_ how he likes Atsumu _so much_ but then he regresses into this… quiet man that Atsumu is not familiar with anymore. He likes when Kiyoomi _talks_ to him.

“Ya know why?” Atsumu continues talking, now climbing on Kiyoomi’s lap. Kiyoomi’s hands land on his ass, where they hold onto him lightly. “Because I like you. And the past is the past.” Atsumu drops his forehead against Kiyoomi’s own. “Can I take your mask off?” Kiyoomi nods and when Atsumu does, he doesn’t waste anytime in kissing Kiyoomi deeply, biting on his lips and shoving his tongue inside his boyfriend’s wet and warm mouth. Kiyoomi kisses back but not as vigorous as Atsumu, he allows Atsumu to take over the kiss, to suck on his tongue and map the inside of his mouth, their saliva mingling with each other.

When Atsumu finally pulls back, the both of them are panting and there’s a drop of sweat trailing down the side of Kiyoomi’s face that Atsumu licks, humming after.

“I like you,” Atsumu repeats, wants to emphasise how much he likes Kiyoomi. How much he _yearns_ for him everyday. How much Kiyoomi has made his heart so _so_ happy, it’s indescribable. “I like you and no one else.”

“I like you too,” Kiyoomi croaks out, voice deep, emotional. “Did you really— With him?“

Atsumu snorts, pecks Kiyoomi’s lips with a sly smile. “Well, yeah… We were young and played against each other a couple of times. He was attractive, so…” Atsumu shrugs, like it’s no big deal that he’s slept with Kuroo a couple of times. Well, maybe more than a couple of times.

“Oh,” Kiyoomi breathes out, grips Atsumu’s ass tight. “Should’ve been me…”

At hearing that, Atsumu can’t help but laugh, cupping Kiyoomi’s face with his hands. “Hmm, well. Ya hated me when we were in high school, it couldn’t be you.”

“You were an asshole,” Kiyoomi says, looking at him accusingly.

Atsumu grins at him, thumbs rubbing small circles on his cheeks. “I was.”

“But we could have had hate sex,” Kiyoomi purses his lips after saying that.

“Nope,” Atsumu giggles, squishing Kiyoomi’s face. “If we did, we wouldn’t be here, ya know? I think we’re okay now. I like where we are.”

Kiyoomi ponders that for a moment before sighing and burying his face on the crook of Atsumu’s neck, inhaling Atsumu’s scent.

Then he breathes out, a quiet murmur, “Yeah, me too.”

“So,” Atsumu says after a few silent seconds. “Can we try that thing I wanted to try today?”

Kiyoomi looks at him, hoists him higher on his lap. “Don’t I have to punish you first?”

Atsumu waves his hand in the air, like he’s erasing Kiyoomi’s words. “Do it later. I wanna try the red rope.”

Kiyoomi sighs, defeated but this time, his lips quirks into a fond smile and Atsumu kisses him because his boyfriend deserves to be kissed. He _likes him so much_.

And _more than that_.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Are ya sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it tight?”

“It’s fine.”

“But what if—“

“‘tsumu, you’re doing good.”

They’re on the bed now, both naked, with Atsumu sitting on Kiyoomi’s stomach, thighs on each side. The room is bright, the white light almost blinding but Atsumu refuses to turn it off; wants the comfort of seeing Kiyoomi’s expression shift from one to another.

Atsumu exhales loudly, fingers tugging on the red rope tied sloppily around Kiyoomi’s hands and the headboard of the bed. He makes sure that it’s not _that_ tight but tight enough that Kiyoomi can’t wiggle his slim wrists off of it. After all, this is different from that one time he tied Kiyoomi’s hands with a silk tie. Rope leaves marks and maybe burns too if not done properly so _forgive him_ for worrying. He’s not a bondage expert. Not yet.

“Okay,” Atsumu nods after making sure for the third time that Kiyoomi is comfortable. “Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“You can if you want,” Kiyoomi says, serious.

Atsumu frowns at him and smacks his bare chest. “Shut up, masochist.”

Kiyoomi smirks then and retorts, “Wrong. Try again.”

“Ah?” Atsumu shifts on top of Kiyoomi, ass rubbing on Kiyoomi’s quickly hardening cock. “Ya ain’t an M? Yer sure not an S so what else, hm?”

Kiyoomi bucks against his ass, biting his lower lip. Atsumupresses his hands on Kiyoomi’s shoulders, forcing him to lay flat on the bed, at Atsumu’s mercy.

“Why not both?” Kiyoomi breathes out when Atsumu circles his hips, his cock sliding up and down Atsumu’s asscrack.

Atsumu giggles, nails dragging down from Kiyoomi’s shoulders to his chest, leaving red indents.

“Ah, I see, I see,” Atsumu continues grinding his ass against Kiyoomi’s now fully hard cock. “My OmiOmi is both. Hm, hm.”

“‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi moans when Atsumu rubs his thumbs on his dark nipples, flicking and pinching it until he’s moaning loudly.

“ _Kiyoomi_ ,” Atsumu retorts with a grin, sliding down Kiyoomi’s body, tongue licking and tracing his abs, sucking marks on Kiyoomi’s skin. He continues doing that until he’s faced with Kiyoomi’s hard cock, standing hard and proud in front of him. He grasps it with his hands, pumping slowly before he sucks on the tip, catching the pre-come that oozes from it.

Kiyoomi bucks his hips once again and Atsumu looks up at his tied up boyfriend, fists clenched tight against the headboard, his arms stretched, and muscles tense. He’s breathing heavily, looking down at Atsumu with half-lidded eyes, dark and filled with lust. Atsumu sucks on the tip again while keeping Kiyoomi’s eyes trained on his, grinning when Kiyoomi tugs on his binds, jaw clenched tightly as Atsumu takes in more of Kiyoomi’s cock inside his mouth.

“ _Fuck, ‘tsumu_ ,” Kiyoomi groans, hips jerking as Atsumu massages his balls, half of his cock swallowed inside Atsumu’s warm and wet mouth.

Atsumu doesn’t take his eyes off Kiyoomi’s face, even when he’s gagging on Kiyoomi’s cock hitting the back of his throat, forcing him to pull back and take a deep breath, his eyes stay on the expression of pure bliss painted on Kiyoomi’s features. When he swallows Kiyoomi’s cock again, he forces another inch in, tongue swirling around Kiyoomi’s cock, letting his saliva coat the hard cock inside his mouth as he bobs up and down.

It goes on like that for a while, Atsumu sliding Kiyoomi’s cock inside his mouth, letting Kiyoomi’s hips fuck into it before Atsumu pulls back and presses kitten licks on his cockhead. Every time Kiyoomi’s cock twitches and his moans and groans grow louder, Atsumu pulls back with a grin, face covered with spit and pre-come.

“Ah, ah. You can’t come before I say so,” Atsumu tuts, hands pumping Kiyoomi’s cock lazily.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi’s flushed from his face to his chest, skin damp with sweat. His lips are dark red from being bitten and his eyes are the deepest dark Atsumu has seen yet.

Atsumu smiles at him, pulls back from Kiyoomi’s body, not an inch of his skin touching Kiyoomi’s own. Kiyoomi whimpers, throwing his head back on the pillow in frustration, hips jerking up in search of friction. Atsumu circles a finger around the tip of Kiyoomi’s cock, spreading the pre-come oozing from it.

“Needy,” Atsumu teases, scooching back on the bed. He bends his knees, opens his thighs wide as he plants his feet firmly on the bed. Briefly, he thanks Kiyoomi for his need to have an overly large bed because this wouldn’t have worked.

Grabbing the bottle of lube, Atsumu pours a copious amount on his hand before fisting his own hard cock, hissing a little at the contact. He bites his lower lip, brows furrowing as he concentrates on stroking his cock while meeting Kiyoomi’s eyes. He thumbs on his slit, moaning loudly before pumping his cock faster, mouth agape and letting out breathy moans with every stroke he makes.

“‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi grunts, pulling on the ropes connected to his wrists and headboard. “Want to touch you.”

Atsumu’s lips forms into a smirk as he says, “Nope. Ya can only watch.”

At his answer, Kiyoomi almost _growls_ like the caveman that he isn’t and Atsumu laughs, tightening his fingers around his cock, fucking up into his hands. He does this for a minute or two more before he takes the bottle of lube once again and drizzles more lube onto his hands and drizzles more on the crack of his ass.

After discarding the bottle on the side, Atsumu doesn’t waste time in rubbing his wet rim with his finger, breath hitching at the contact. His body trembles when he pushes his finger inside his asshole, his hole tightening around his digit.

“Breathe, babe,” Kiyoomi says, voice rough.

Atsumu blinks at him then nods before he takes a deep breath, letting it out with a loud exhale. Body relaxing at hearing Kiyoomi’s soothing voice, Atsumu slides more of his finger inside him until there’s nothing more to shove. He whines and pumps his finger inside his ass a couple of times before adding another finger, wanting to feel that delicious stretch every time Kiyoomi fingers him. But his fingers are different from Kiyoomi’s own, just a little shorter and bony and it doesn’t fill him enough when he shoves it inside his tight ass, scissoring as his hips fucks into them.

“Omi,” Atsumu moans, slotting another finger beside the two inside him. He looks at Kiyoomi as he slides his fingers inside his soppy hole slowly. Kiyoomi is watching him intently, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and cock leaking pre-come against his stomach.

Humming at finally feeling that delicious stretch inside him, Atsumu starts fucking his ass with his fingers, fast and hard. He shoves his fingers inside his ass roughly, wiggling against his walls and looking for that bundle of nerves that makes his mind go white. Kiyoomi seems to find it _easy_ enough but Atsumu takes time, fingers pumping in and out of his ass, the loud squelching noises almost _too loud_ in the quiet of the room, Atsumu’s moans and Kiyoomi’s heavy breathing the only other sounds beside it.

“ _Ah,_ ” Atsumu jerks when his fingers finally brushes on that nerve and he cries out when he presses on it, legs trembling and toes curling against the bedsheets.

“Baby,” Kiyoomi calls out and Atsumu shivers at the look of pure lust written on his face.

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu replies, fingers inside him pumping leisurely. His thighs are covered in lube, wet and messy and filthy and Atsumu widens his legs more, showing Kiyoomi his twitching and gaping hole stretched by his own fingers.

“You’re so hot,” Kiyoomi says, voice breathy. Atsumu watches Kiyoomi’s cock twitch and ooze pre-come, licking his lips at the sight.

“Wanna ride ya,” Atsumu bites his lip, taking his fingers out of his hole. “Omi, wanna ride your fat cock.”

Kiyoomi groans, squeezes his eyes as his legs jolts when Atsumu lays his hands on his thighs. When he opens his eyes again, Atsumu is crawling on top of him, ass hovering over his cock.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi nods, bucks his hips up towards Atsumu’s wet entrance. “Yeah, ‘tsumu. Please.”

“What?” Atsumu asks, teasing, and high on the power he rarely has. More often than not, he loves when Kiyoomi strips him of his power and everything that he is; from being shy, to hesitant, to insecure, Kiyoomi fucks those emotions out of him, leaving Atsumu vulnerable and shameless and sated. But sometimes, Atsumu likes to have the power, to make Kiyoomi beg for him. It’s a heady feeling.

“Ride me,” Kiyoomi parrots Atsumu’s words, moaning as Atsumu grabs his hard cock and letting the fat head rub against his loose entrance.

“What’s the magic word?” Atsumu giggles, hand pumping Kiyoomi’s cock, ass still hovering on top of it.

Kiyoomi heaves a deep breath, looks at Atsumu pleadingly. “ _Please,_ Atsumu. Ride my cock.”

“Good boy,” Atsumu grins and with no preamble, drops on Kiyoomi’s cock, sliding so smoothly, so _perfectly_ like Atsumu’s ass is made for Kiyoomi’s cock.

Both of them lets out twin moans, loud and deep as Kiyoomi’s cock settles inside Atsumu’s wet and tight hole, gripping so tightly, it’s almost painful. Atsumu doesn’t move for a few seconds, allowing himself to get used to Kiyoomi’s cock splitting his insides. If he thinks Kiyoomi’s fingers stretching his ass is _delicious_ , Kiyoomi’s _cock_ stretching his ass is _amazing_ and mind-numbing. It makes his cock twitch and leak more pre-come, wetting his clenched stomach.

Taking another deep breath, Atsumu exhales loudly before looking at Kiyoomi and reaching out, rubbing his fingers on Kiyoomi’s red lips. Kiyoomi sucks on his thumb, biting on the appendage lightly and making Atsumu giggle at the action.

Smiling, Atsumu leans down, shifting his hips, Kiyoomi’s cock sliding deeper and pressing on his prostate, making him shudder hard. His fingers lands on Kiyoomi’s shoulders, nails digging on the skin as he tries to prevent himself from coming prematurely. He wants this to last longer.

“So full,” Atsumu breathes out, face hovering over Kiyoomi’s.

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi murmurs back, arms tensing as he tugs on the ties again, wanting to touch Atsumu but _can’t_.

“Yeah,” Atsumu nods and starts moving his hips, thrusts shallow. “Omi’s cock is so big. Stretches me so _good_.”

“‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi moans, Atsumu’s hole clenching around his dick. “So tight.”

“Really?” Atsumu mouths at Kiyoomi’s lips, tongue swiping at his lower lip. “Even when you fuck me often, I’m still tight?”

Kiyoomi nods, bucking his hips as Atsumu starts bouncing on top of him in a leisurely pace. He tilts his head and kisses Atsumu deeply, tongue shoving inside Atsumu’s mouth as he continues to fuck up into Atsumu’s wet hole.

Atsumu continues to ride Kiyoomi languidly for a while, focusing on kissing Kiyoomi deeply until they can’t breathe anymore. When they pull back from the kiss, a thin strip of saliva connects their lips. Atsumu then sits up, lifting his ass from Kiyoomi’s cock, the head of Kiyoomi’s dick the only part left inside him before he drops down hard, burying it deep inside him, making him tremble and groan loudly. He feels Kiyoomi’s body shudder under him and Atsumu grins at his boyfriend before sitting up, hands on Kiyoomi’s chest and starts riding him faster.

“‘tsumu, _fuck, fuck_ ,” Kiyoomi moans, hips meeting Atsumu’s every move.

Toes curling on the soft sheets, Atsumu bounces his ass fast, moves erratic as he chases their release. His stomach tightens, wet cock twitching and bouncing along with his movements. He looks down at Kiyoomi’s face, lips tugging into a small smile when he sees his boyfriend’s brows furrowed and his lips set into a tight line. Which means the twitching cock inside him is close to coming. Atsumu leans down, presses multiple wet kisses on Kiyoomi’s lips as his hands clenches on top of Kiyoomi’s chest.

“So close,” Kiyoomi whimpers, fucking into Atsumu faster.

Atsumu continues to ride Kiyoomi fast, his thighs clenching against Kiyoomi’s side. He then wraps a hand around his cock, pumping quick along with his movements while he clenches his hole around Kiyoomi’s dick.

He strokes his cock a few more times before he comes, body shuddering as he releases in short, thick spurts, staining his hand and Kiyoomi’s chest. He milks his orgasm while bouncing on top of Kiyoomi, feeling Kiyoomi’s cock twitch inside him before shooting his come inside Atsumu.

Atsumu doesn’t stop moving, riding Kiyoomi until Kiyoomi is whimpering, softening cock slipping out of Atsumu’s ass, followed by his come spilling out of Atsumu’s abused hole.

When Kiyoomi sees that, Atsumu shivers and scoops Kiyoomi’s come trailing down his thighs. Kiyoomi follows his movements, and when their eyes finally meet, Atsumu shoves his come coated fingers inside his mouth, humming at the taste. Kiyoomi’s left eyebrow twitches at the sight and Atsumu grins around his fingers, letting saliva drip down his chin.

“You’re lewd,” Kiyoomi says, eyes once again intense.

Atsumu sucks on his fingers loudly before he retorts, “You like it.”

“I do,” Kiyoomi frowns, like it hurts him to admit it. He then tugs on the binds holding him immobile. “Can you untie me now? Want to hold you.”

Atsumu grins, nods, “Sure, babe.”

While Atsumu undoes the ties, Kiyoomi asks, “Need help with cleaning?”

Atsumu snorts, plopping his ass wet with come and lube on Kiyoomi’s chest. “Stop pretending to help. You only want shower sex.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t even deny it, saying, “That too.”

“You’re always horny.” Atsumu unravels the ties and carefully, gently, helps Kiyoomi lower his arms while rubbing his hands on Kiyoomi’s now marked wrists.

“That too,” Kiyoomi admits, looking at Atsumu who’s focused on soothing his wrists.

“Does it hurt?” Atsumu asks, tracing the faint marks.

Kiyoomi smiles, shaking his head before sitting up and hugging Atsumu tightly, like he wants to swallow Atsumu whole, be one with him. “No,” he replies. “Doesn’t hurt at all.”

Atsumu hugs him back, just as tightly. “Good. I would’ve cried if I hurt you.”

Kiyoomi snorts, pressing a kiss on Atsumu’s neck. “You’re a pretty crier. I should’ve said it hurt.”

“Why are you like this,” Atsumu moans in faux agony, burying his face on the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck.

“Because I like you,” Kiyoomi confesses, smiling. “I like you so much.”

Atsumu grins, “I like you too.”

_And more than that_ , he thinks, a faint whisper in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhh. imma update soon!!! i have so many days to catch up to omg 🤪


	22. i put your lips on my lips (i get weak)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 25: TICKLING** & **DAY 26: STRIPPING**
>
>> “Hey—“ Kiyoomi gasps out, almost coughing as Atsumu’s fingers continue assaulting his side.
>> 
>> “You’re so ticklish,” Atsumu grins as he lets his fingers relax, patting Kiyoomi’s hoodie instead of tickling him.
>> 
>> “Aren’t you the same?” Kiyoomi says in between pants, trying to catch his breath after Atsumu’s tickle attack.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh,,, there's really no smut in this... just sakuatsu fluff,,, sowwy,, this chap is so,,,, TT

The week in Tokyo is eventful and Atsumu has learned a lot not only about BDSM but also more about Kiyoomi.

Like, how Kiyoomi goes silent when he’s overly jealous. Or how, when Atsumu asks Kiyoomi to bring him to his favourite place, Kiyoomi brings him to a park and tells him the story of how he fell in love with volleyball. Or how Kiyoomi likes to go to shrines and temples because they are peaceful, _not crowded_. And Atsumu takes all of those little informations in, like he’s studying for an exam that he wants to pass with perfect grades.

Kiyoomi is an enigma, Atsumu deduces. He’s this person who hates dirty places and is always seen wearing a mask. He’s also the kind of person who can’t say what he wants straight away, preferring to let his emotions simmer until they burst out and consume him. He’s the guy who loves volleyball with all his heart, leaving his hometown for another city just so he can join a good team. He’s someone who doesn’t go well with a lot of people, especially the likes of Atsumu.

But his Atsumu’s _Kiyoomi_ who touches Atsumu like he’s the most precious thing that has graced this earth. He is Atsumu’s _Omi_ who confessed to him with heartfelt words, expecting to be heart broken and having made peace with it. He is Atsumu’s _OmiOmi_ who takes care of Atsumu and gives Atsumu whatever he wants, be it food, clothes, _experience_.

He is Atsumu’s Kiyoomi and Atsumu wants to hold him close because every time he’s far away, his heart doesn’t stop _missing_ him.

So, yeah. Atsumu has learned a lot of things while in Tokyo.

He learns that Kiyoomi makes his _heart_ so happy it could burst.

Atsumu learns, while looking at the Tokyo Tower, with Kiyoomi by his side, illuminated by the dim yellow light of the street lamp, that he loves Kiyoomi.

It’s a revelation.

An inevitable one.

* * *

Is there a difference between _like_ and _love?_ A lot of people doesn’t differentiate the two from each other because _aren’t they the same?_ Liking someone, loving someone— what’s the difference?

Atsumu can tell the difference.

Liking is when Atsumu could live without Kiyoomi’s touch, can think of a future without Kiyoomi.

Loving is when Atsumu can’t live without Kiyoomi’s warmth, can’t think of a life without Kiyoomi beside him.

“Omi,” Atsumu calls out from their bed, phone on his hand.

They are now back in Osaka, specifically, they are now back in Kiyoomi’s apartment in Osaka. Meaning, Atsumu hasn’t been in his apartment for almost two weeks and the food he left in his fridge are probably collecting mold by now. _Yikes_.

Kiyoomi looks at him from the balcony, the door slightly open. The weather is getting better now, winter almost ending. Well, not that winter has actually _come_. It didn’t even snow properly this year, just some soft slush kind of snow that melts right away once it hits the ground. So, technically, it’s still Autumn, going on Spring.

“One moment,” Kiyoomi says, half-lit cigarette dangling from his long fingers.

Atsumu sighs, looks at the magazine interview that he’s done on January, now out for everyone to read. He reads the part about his necklace and couldn’t help but move a hand to lay on where it rests on his skin under his pyjama shirt. The comforting weight of the pendant makes him relax, heart at peace every time he remembers the meaning of it. The temporary collar that Kiyoomi has gifted him when they were in Tokyo is back inside the black box and stashed in the deepest parts of their closet. Honestly, it’s a shame that the collar is too— _showy_ , Atsumu would’ve loved to wear it sometimes but _well_ , he’ll just settle with the necklace that Kiyoomi has given him.

Atsumu slides under the duvet and reads the comments about the MSBY Black Jackals interview with Bokuto, Hinata, and him.

He focuses on his own interview because that’s what has people buzzing on the internet. The sports world, especially the Volleyball world, might not be as big as Soccer but it’s big enough that any popular athlete that does _something_ worth talking about becomes the talk of town— or internet. Both.

Since he’s got time now, Atsumu scrolls down twitter, squinting his eyes at particular comments that catches his attention.

🦊 **@foxxymiyas  
** omg! is tsumu hinting he’s taken?!!!!

d word **@msbyblowj  
** i think he’s teasing us again 😂 he always does this 😩

adlers hoe **@kagsads  
** when will adler’s interview gonna come out? i’m wilting here

ㅅㅋㅅ **@10050320  
** 앜ㅋㅋㅋ 사쿠사는 이런 목걸이도 잇어 우왕!!!!

> skts **@sakuatsuspicious  
> ** **@10050320** what does this say i can only read sakutatsu lol
> 
> taetummy **@taehyungbwi  
> ** **@sakuatsuspicious @10050320  
> ** hi! it says that sakusa have the same necklace 😯
> 
> skts **@sakuatsuspicious  
> ** **@taehyungbwi @10050320  
> ** ah! thank you!! wow! really!!

skts **@sakuatsuspicious  
** [ hhh.jpeg ] [ sss.jpeg ]  
found the pictures of sakusa wearing the same necklace!!! so i compared it with atsumu’s and they do have the same! whoa 🤩

> ia for now **@bjmsbymiya  
> ** delulus unite 😂

Seeing those replies, at the very far end of the comment section on the twitter post, Atsumu sits up on the bed, head dizzy from the quick action. His heart starts beating wildly, breath suddenly stuck in his throat because— someone saw Kiyoomi with his necklace? When? How?

“Omi,” Atsumu whispers, wide eyes still trained on the phone.

On perfect timing, Kiyoomi enters the bedroom once again, hand combing through his messy dark hair. Atsumu turns his attention to him, his lips opening and closing, no words coming out of it.

“‘tsumu?” Kiyoomi frowns as he squirts a dollop of disinfectant on his hands before rubbing while walking closer to their bed. “Something wrong?”

Atsumu doesn’t know what to say. It’s… kind of his fault, that this happened but Kiyoomi knows right? That Atsumu said that? After all, the magazine posted a preview of his interview and _twitte_ r has talked about it for almost a week after his interview.

“This.”

Instead of saying anything, Atsumu opts for showing Kiyoomi the comments on the phone. He watches as Kiyoomi scrolls down the comments, pausing at the ones Atsumu showed him, eyes moving as he takes in the information.

“Ah,” Kiyoomi breathes out, looks at him with furrowed brows.

“‘m sorry,” Atsumu mumbles, looking down on his hands fidgeting on top of their duvet.

“Why?”

At the reply, Atsumu looks up at Kiyoomi who’s looking at him with soft _soft_ eyes, not a hint of accuse in his gaze.

“Because I said that,” Atsumu frowns, chews on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath before saying, “I’m gonna ruin our careers.”

Kiyoomi throws the phone on the bed, far from them and gathers Atsumu close to him, almost on his lap. Atsumu nuzzles Kiyoomi’s chest, breathing in the scent of nicotine and disinfectant clinging on Kiyoomi’s hoodie.

“No, you won’t,” Kiyoomi says, hands rubbing up and down his back.

Atsumu faces him, lips formed into a pout, hands trembling as he grips Kiyoomi’s hooded.

“Yes, I will,” Atsumu insists because he already is ruining their careers by being too obvious and—

“It’s 2020, ‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi says, grabs Atsumu’s hand and presses a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “I think the world has changed. We don’t need to hide, you know? We can be examples to young athletes. Don’t you want that?”

Atsumu bites the inside of his cheek, remembers the time when he told Osamu, then his parents, and then the Inarizaki team that _he likes guys;_ the way his hands trembled, the way his eyes watered when he blurted the words out, the way his heart dropped at the bottom of his stomach when he’s met with silence but then how his whole being swooped in joy when each and everyone of them _accepted_ him. Like there’s nothing wrong with being him because— because there _isn’t_.

Atsumu remembers and Kiyoomi probably remembers his experiences too. If they’ve had someone to look up to, someone brave enough to face the unfair world, it would have been easier. Much _much_ easier.

“I do,” Atsumu replies after a long beat of silence. He intertwines his fingers with Kiyoomi’s own, squeezing softly, comforted by Kiyoomi’s steady presence and his soothing warmth. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Kiyoomi smiles before littering Atsumu’s face with kisses, making him giggle.

“Do you want to tell the internet about us? Not that they deserve it. They ship you with _everyone_.” Atsumu grumbles, the ball of anxiety stuck in his throat finally letting up, disappearing slowly, replaced with relief, _content_.

Kiyoomi huffs a laugh against Atsumu’s cheek, lips pulled into a wide grin. He’s _gorgeous_ , Atsumu can’t help but kiss him, lips slotting against Kiyoomi’s own perfectly.

When they pull back, Kiyoomi breathes out, “I ship me with you.”

Atsumu grins widely at him, “You better. Or else.”

Following his words, Atsumu moves his hands on Kiyoomi’s sides before pressing his fingers there. Kiyoomi lets out a squeak then a few giggles before it morphs into loud laughters when Atsumu continues to _tickle_ him.

“Ah— ‘tsumu—“ Kiyoomi says between laughter and Atsumu basks in the sounds of Kiyoomi’s laughter; the way it’s breathy but deep, the way he laughs with his whole body, shoulders shaking and stomach clenching, the way his eyes crinkle and his lips pull into a beautiful grin.

Atsumu thinks that he’s blessed to be with Kiyoomi; understanding, _gorgeous_ , Kiyoomi.

He loves him.

He loves him and it becomes a chant since realising this fact in Tokyo.

He loves him and it makes his heart skip a beat, stuttering every time Kiyoomi looks at him like he’s his whole world.

Maybe, _just maybe_ , Kiyoomi loves him too.

“Hey—“ Kiyoomi gasps out, almost coughing as Atsumu’s fingers continue assaulting his side.

“You’re so ticklish,” Atsumu grins as he lets his fingers relax, patting Kiyoomi’s hoodie instead of tickling him.

“Aren’t you the same?” Kiyoomi says in between pants, trying to catch his breath after Atsumu’s tickle attack.

Atsumu freezes, looks at him wide-eyed. He stutters, unconvincing, “N-no. I’m not.”

Kiyoomi smirks and without saying anything, flips their position; him laying on the bed and Kiyoomi now on top of him kneeling between his legs.

“Omi,” Atsumu warns, tone hard. “Don’t.”

Kiyoomi hums, fingers slipping under Atsumu’s pyjama top, his warm fingertips raising goosebumps on Atsumu’s skin. “But you did it to me. Time for payback, babe.”

And without further ado, Kiyoomi presses his fingers on Atsumu’s sides and starts tickling him. Atsumu squeals, screaming at Kiyoomi to _stop! omi! stop!_ in between loud laughter that has him jerking on the bed. He rolls his body side to side, trying to escape Kiyoomi’s fingers but Kiyoomi makes sure he can’t escape, settling himself between Atsumu’s thighs more firmly.

“Omi— Ah— Omi— Sto—” Atsumu giggles, hands pushing on Kiyoomi’s shoulders, eyes blurry, _teary_. “I— _haha, give_. Omi,” he drags the last syllable of Kiyoomi’s name, giggling after.

Kiyoomi’s fingers slows down, is now unmoving on his skin. A second passes before they move down to his waist, Kiyoomi’s hands splaying on his stomach. When Atsumu looks up at Kiyoomi, he sees him watching him intently, like he’s trying to imprint Atsumu’s face in his mind.

Atsumu takes a gasp of breath, wriggling around as he says, “Are ya done?”

Kiyoomi blinks, still looking at Atsumu, gaze never straying from his face. He grips Atsumu’s hips and pulls him closer, ass to crotch. And Atsumu _feels_ what’s wrong now. Or maybe what’s _right_.

He grins, wraps his legs around Kiyoomi’s waist, “Ya got hard from tickling me?”

Kiyoomi frowns, brows furrowing as he continues to move his hands around Atsumu’s torso, fingers feather soft on his skin.

“What kind of fetish is that?” Atsumu teases, hands on Kiyoomi’s shoulders, pulling his boyfriend’s face close. “Yer so naughty, Omi- _kun_.”

“You’re one to talk. You were hard before me,” Kiyoomi reiterates, now looking at Atsumu accusingly.

Atsumu shrugs, presses a kiss on Kiyoomi’s lips. “Can’t blame me. My boyfriend is gorgeous.” He says then bucks his hips towards Kiyoomi’s clothed cock. “So, are ya gonna fuck me, hm?”

Kiyoomi kisses him back, thrusting against Atsumu’s clothed ass. Kiyoomi nibbles on his lower lip, hands dragging up and rubbing on his nipples. Atsumu’s breath hitches, body jerking and eyes falling shut at Kiyoomi’s actions.

“Practice tomorrow,” Kiyoomi says, even when he’s pinching Atsumu’s nipples, making Atsumu moan loudly.

“Don’t care,” Atsumu quickly replies, opening his eyes and looking at Kiyoomi petulantly.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable,” Kiyoomi reasons, pushing Atsumu’s pyjama top over his chest and up to his neck. Atsumu looks down at Kiyoomi’s fingers still rubbing his nipples, making them hard, _puffy_.

Atsumu huffs before flipping their positions once again. He kneels between Kiyoomi’s parted legs, looking down at Kiyoomi with dark lust-filled eyes. He doesn’t even know how they ended up here but Atsumu doesn’t even care about that. He _wants_ Kiyoomi, that’s the only thing he knows right now.

“Hmm,” Atsumu hums, fidgeting with the hem of his top. “Are ya sure, OmiOmi?”

Still kneeling on the bed, Atsumu slips his hands under his top and trails his fingers up, making a show in throwing his head back, line of his neck bared for Kiyoomi to look at. His fingers stops to fondle his nipples, pinching and rubbing them like how Kiyoomi does, letting out an exaggerated moan that would make even professional pornstars facepalm in secondhand embarrassment. Well, Atsumu is just _playing_ with his boyfriend. It’s not like he’s _serious_.

But maybe he should.

“Babe,” Kiyoomi shuffles, makes himself comfortable on the bed, arms pillowed under his head.

Atsumu pouts at him, stops teasing his nipples.

“You’re not taking me seriously,” Atsumu pouts more.

“Are you stripping for me?” Kiyoomi cocks a brow at him, lips tugging into a teasing grin.

“Well, now, I don’ wanna,” Atsumu huffs, bottom lip jutting out even more.

“No, no. Continue please,” Kiyoomi teases, gesturing a hand for Atsumu to _continue._

Atsumu rolls his eyes and even when his cheeks flush in embarrassment, he continues his earlier actions. He drags his top up slowly, fingers tracing the muscles on his stomach, making him shiver. He hums, doesn’t take his gaze away from Kiyoomi even as he rubs his nipples with his thumbs before biting on the hem of his top and dragging his fingers down his crotch, sliding under his pyjama bottoms. His hand grips his cock and pumps slowly, a muffled moan slipping out of his lips at the delicious friction.

“Hmm,” Kiyoomi hums, his own hands disappearing under his sweatpants. “Come on, ‘tsumu. Take off your clothes, yeah? For me?”

Atsumu thumbs on the head of his cock as he nods and slowly, making a show of it, takes his top off, throwing it on the floor, followed by his pants and boxers.

Naked, he crawls on all fours on top of Kiyoomi, whispers, “Fuck me now?”

Kiyoomi grins at him, pulls him into a deep kiss before saying, “Don’t blame me tomorrow.”

Atsumu can’t even say anything else because Kiyoomi is quick to prepare him, shoving his lube coated fingers in his ass before he fucks Atsumu on the sheets hard and fast. Atsumu is too needy to think of anything else, loving Kiyoomi’s cock inside him.

It’s a good end for a good evening.  
  


Morning the next day, before they head to practice, Atsumu posts on his _LINE_ and _twitter_ account a picture of him wearing Kiyoomi’s MSBY uniform with Kiyoomi yawning on the background, hair a mess, cheeks puffy, and eyes still sleepy.

> ATSUMU **@miyatsumu** **  
> ** _[ omi.jpeg ]_ i stole my boyfriend’s uniform. now he has to wear mine!

Safe to say, the Volleyball world once again, falls into chaos because of one Miya Atsumu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha,,, i promise i'll make it up in the next chaps TT


	23. love made me crazy (if it doesn't you ain't doing it right)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DAY 27: (SEMI)PUBLIC SEX**
>
>> Love is such a hassle.
>> 
>> Loving someone much more.
>> 
>> It brings him emotions that he’s never felt before, makes him feel _petty_ , almost _pathetic_. Romantic jealousy is annoying but Atsumu can’t seem to shake it off, having allowed it to cloud his rationality.
> 
> **\+ updated tags!!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!hi! still continuing this even though kinktober has passed already aha,,,, lol anyways, a few of you lovelies wanted jealous atsumu so,,,, here's a jealous atsumu????? idk TT

Right after Valentine’s day, their schedule immediately fills out. Not that it _isn’t_ filled before but now that Kiyoomi is back, injury fully healed, the both of them are working even harder and the team is training even more fiercely. And along with more sports magazine shoots and interviews plus charity games that their team has willingly participated, their time together _alone_ lessens considerably.

Which— _well,_ is fine, Atsumu thinks.

After all, being together too often is just _tiring_. Not that Atsumu is tired of being with Kiyoomi but Kiyoomi is a lone wolf, has always liked to be alone more than with people. It’s a wonder, really, that Kiyoomi has not asked Atsumu for space yet. What with Atsumu staying at Kiyoomi’s place three to four out of seven days a week, sometimes even a _whole_ _week_.

Huh.

Is this co-dependency? Domesticity?

Now that Atsumu knows his feelings for Kiyoomi, that runs deeper than it should be, he’s a bit— _apprehensive_ in being too clingy. Or needy. But it is his love language— to be clingy, to pay more attention than necessary to someone he loves. It is his love language and that’s why it’s hard to quit it.

Thankfully, Kiyoomi seems to enjoy Atsumu’s attention on him; the way Atsumu seeks him out first out of everyone in the team, the way he sends Kiyoomi a message every morning when he wakes up and every evening before he sleeps, and the way he takes care of Kiyoomi in the subtlest of ways.

Kiyoomi seems to enjoy it but Atsumu still _worries._

He shouldn’t have.

* * *

Out of all the days the team has decided to go out and get _drunk,_ it has to fall on _white day_.

White day!

Not only have they ruined Atsumu’s plans to give Kiyoomi his present—a spectacular blowjob and mind-blowing fuck that would have _blown_ Kiyoomi’s mind—they’ve also chosen the most expensive, most pompous club in Osaka.

Despite popular belief, or whatever rumours say about him, Atsumu isn’t too fond of going to clubs. Well, he _was_ fond— _tolerable—_ of going to clubs just so he can mess around with people that he doesn’t know and forget what they’ve done the day after. But that was the past and now Atsumu has mellowed out, isn’t much of wild child anymore. Now, Atsumu prefers quiet bars over loud clubs or being at home watching an anime over getting black out drunk.

Or maybe that’s just because of Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi has taught Atsumu that silence doesn’t have to be filled to enjoy being with someone. And he has taught Atsumu that alcohol doesn’t need to be consumed to be brave to say something. And he has taught Atsumu that numerous people doesn’t need to be there for one to feel complete.

Or perhaps Atsumu is just being sentimental? _Emotional?_

No matter, Atsumu isn’t much into this club outing but he comes anyways, walks beside Kiyoomi while trailing after Hinata and Inunaki who are _excited_ to get drunk. Meian- _san_ and Tomas- _san_ has voted out in coming, preferring to stay in. Bokuto, walking beside Atsumu, is on the phone with Akaashi with a big smile on his face. _Ah, sweet love_ , Atsumu thinks, remembers his own _love_ and slowly intertwines his pinky with Kiyoomi’s gloved one.

“Okay?” Atsumu asks, studying Kiyoomi’s face.

Kiyoomi is dressed casually, just like everyone but he looks _too_ handsome for Atsumu to not squeal over. His boyfriend is, truly, a god among men.

Kiyoomi holds Atsumu’s hands completely and shoves their hands in his jacket pockets. Atsumu smiles at him, bumps their shoulders together, affectionate.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi answers as they walk-in, the bouncer immediately letting them enter the club. Hinata seems to know him. Hmm— “Are you?”

Atsumu turns his attention back to Kiyoomi and grins, nods, “Perfect since I’m with my handsome boyfriend.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes at him, eyes crinkling on the sides, surely smiling under his white mask. Atsumu would have loved to tug Kiyoomi’s mask down and kiss him senseless but as soon as they get in the club, the music pounds inside his skull like its trying to make him deaf and well, for now public display of affection is out of the question.

Bokuto and Hinata are jumping and dancing on top of the seat of the booth they are occupying.

The table is littered with bottles of drinks; ranging from champagne to vodka to tequila to beer and some snacks. Honestly, it’s _too much_ for a night out and they’re even on the second floor, the _VIP_ section. He tells Hinata this when they’re shown to their booth but Hinata only grins at him, tells him it’s _okay_. So Atsumu doesn’t pry anymore since _it’s okay_. Whatever that means.

Atsumu continues to watch the two make a fool out of themselves. They’re not even _drunk_ yet and they’re already acting stupid. Atsumu would’ve joined them, really, if not for him being _distracted_.

For all that Atsumu is an asshole, a jerk, an annoying person in general, he also has redeeming qualities. Like being understanding, a good listener, a quick learner, and has the ability to read the room if necessary.

What Atsumu is _not_ though is being capable of not being _jealous_.

Jealousy is such a useless emotion, just— _there_ for no reason but fuck with his mind. And yet it burns within him, like some ugly green eyed monster waiting to be unleashed from the pit of his stomach.

Atsumu has never had any _proper_ reason to be jealous when it comes to Kiyoomi because his boyfriend is possessive and jealous enough for the two of them. And Kiyoomi is not a people person, the glare he always has some sort of defence in keeping people away. Plus, Kiyoomi always looks at Atsumu like he only has eyes for him.

Atsumu has never had _any fucking reason_ to be jealous.

Except right now.

Of course. Of fucking _course_ he understands perfectly well, _knows_ it like the back of his hands that Kiyoomi is _attractive._ Despite the glare and the unwelcoming aura he exudes, he is the definition of _tall, dark,_ and _handsome_. And in the flashing lights of the club, wearing black cargo pants, an oversized plain shirt, a leather jacket on top of it, and boots on his feet, Kiyoomi _would_ attract attention. And Atsumu hates to admit it but him standing there by the bar, mask tugged down to his chin while taking a drag of his cigarette and waiting for the bartender to make his drink, he is so _fucking hot_.

Atsumu is not even biased. He is _that_ gorgeous.

Atsumu feels that flare of jealousy once again. He squints his eyes, curses the fucking flashing lights and the dark dim of the place in disabling him from seeing Kiyoomi properly. Or more specifically, in seeing the _girls_ that are trying to flirt with Kiyoomi.

He thinks maybe this is karma, for all the times Atsumu has made Kiyoomi jealous _intentionally._

His jaw clenches when the claw of one of the girls lands on Kiyoomi’s arm. It’s weird, Kiyoomi is not doing anything. He’s just— standing there, smoking and looking straight towards the DJ booth. Atsumu swallows, _wonders_.

Does Kiyoomi _like_ them? Or the attention?

It’s weird, and it makes the blood rushing towards Atsumu’s brain roar like— like the _jealous_ person that he is.

He clenches his fists, turns away from the sight and narrows his eyes at Hinata now sitting by the booth with someone that looks like Kozume Kenma by his side. Wait— it _is_ Kozume Kenma. Atsumu watches the former setter lean in, press a kiss on Hinata’s cheek, smile so fondly his eyes could’ve been heart shaped.

_Ahhh_ , Atsumu hums to himself. Come to think of it, Hinata did say in passing that his special someone is visiting. Huh. No wonder Hinata could just bulldoze in this club, Kozume’s popular and has influence— an _influencer_ , was it?

Hmm.

Kozume turns to him then, must have felt his gaze on them. He leans forward, leaning on the table between them, greets as clearly as he can,

“Oh, Kuroo’s… friend.”

Atsumu splutters, blushes. Hinata snickers at him and Kozume smirks, like a little shit.

Frowning, Atsumu says, “We’re not like— _that_ anymore.”

“I know,” Kozume’s smirk turns into a knowing grin. “He told me what happened in Tokyo.”

“Huh,” Atsumu breathes out in disbelief. He’s not even surprised that Kozume knows it, Kuroo and him are _best friends_ after all. At some point in their life, they were probably more. Who knows. Life is full of surprises.

Kozume looks at him more for a little while before shrugging to himself and turning to Hinata who eagerly starts whispering to him, both of them with smitten smiles on their faces. _Disgusting._

Atsumu wishes for Kiyoomi to be here so he can act _disgusting_ with him too.

Sighing, Atsumu takes a sip from his beer glass, glances to where Kiyoomi is and frowns to himself, seeing him gone. He takes a bigger gulp of his beer before looking around, flashing lights making his eyes hurt and loud music making his head pound _terribly_.

Where is Kiyoomi?

He turns to another side of the club and finds Kiyoomi walking towards their table, hand holding a glass of whiskey. When he arrives in front of Atsumu, he quickly takes a seat beside him, slams his glass on the table and tugs his mask down. Then, without preamble, presses his face on Atsumu’s neck, taking huge gulps of air, breathing in Atsumu’s scent. It has Atsumu shivering, hand coming up to thread through Kiyoomi’s dark hair. He looks down at his boyfriend, a little worried then looks up when a noise of someone clearing their throat reaches his ears.

Atsumu faces the girls that has been talking to Kiyoomi earlier. This close, he can see their pretty faces, make-up perfect, clothes expensive. He blinks at them then furrows his brows as he looks at them in question.

“Yes?” Atsumu greets, impassive.

A girl with lips painted in pretty red smiles at him, says, “Can you scoot? I want to talk to him.”

“Him?” Atsumu cocks a brow, fingers on Kiyoomi’s hair tightening. He thinks he knows what’s the problem now and it _is_ pretty funny seeing Kiyoomi try to run away from girls but Atsumu might not be good with dealing jealousy but he wears it beautifully, _vindictively._

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” The girl answers, continues to smile at him prettily. She bats her eyelashes at him and Atsumu would have been nice but sweet rich women has done him wrong once, he’s learned his lesson. “I’m Nakamura Kana, nice to meet you. Kiyoomi and I went to the same high school. I just want to catch up and talk.”

Her smiles turns sharp, _mean_. Atsumu narrows his eyes, tugs on Kiyoomi’s hair. Kiyoomi picks his head up from Atsumu’s neck, seeming to have calmed down after taking in Atsumu’s clean and calming scent. Atsumu ignores the girls and produces a bottle of disinfectant. He squirts a dollop on Kiyoomi’s hands once Kiyoomi has tugged his mask up, covering half of his face once again. Once that’s done, he turns to the girls once more, studies their faces before smiling, _mean_.

“Omi doesn’t want to talk,” Atsumu says, leans his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, throwing a clear message that no one is welcome to come in between them.

Kana _-san_ frowns, the girls behind her tilting their head in curiosity. “That’s your opinion. Kiyoomi has never said no to me.”

_What_.

Smile freezing on his face, Atsumu slowly picks his head up from Kiyoomi’s shoulder and then, like the sweet person that he is, asks his boyfriend, sweetly,

“Ya _know_ her?”

“I’m his ex-girlfriend but that’s not important,” Kana- _san_ replies instead of Kiyoomi and Atsumu turns to her, glares, almost bares his teeth like he’s going fucking _feral_.

Ex-girlfriend.

Huh.

Wow.

Atsumu can’t believe his _bad luck_.

The jealousy simmering inside him bursts out, seeping through his veins, contaminating his brain, repeating the words said to him like a broken fucking record, _mocking_.

He takes a deep breath, swallows the lump that has suddenly appeared in his throat. He’s not like this— or maybe he’s never had any reason to be like this. He doesn’t know what to do in this situation. It messes him up.

“I see,” Atsumu says, almost too quiet but the music once pounding through the speakers is now almost too quiet, a break from ruining his eardrums. Atsumu doesn’t need to shout or speak louder for anyone to hear him. They can hear him clearly. “You want to reconcile? Get back together?”

“Why not?” The girl on the left side pipes in. Atsumu glares at her.

Kana- _san_ smiles, too sweet. “I don’t know, actually. We only broke up because I left to study abroad. If there are still lingering feelings—“

“None,” Kiyoomi finally seems to get his bearings once again, having been quiet the whole time Atsumu shakes on his seat in _jealousy_.

Love is such a hassle.

Loving someone much more.

It brings him emotions that he’s never felt before, makes him feel _petty_ , almost _pathetic_. Romantic jealousy is annoying but Atsumu can’t seem to shake it off, having allowed it to cloud his rationality.

“Kiyoomi—“

“ _Sakusa_ ,” Kiyoomi says, his fingers once on Atsumu’s hair now rubbing circles on Atsumu’s back. It doesn’t comfort Atsumu much. “We’ve talked about this, Nakamura- _san_. We’re nothing.”

“But we could make it work—“

The music suddenly booms from the speakers and Kana- _san_ jumps, startled. She frowns, bites her lower lip as she looks at Kiyoomi.

“Hey,” Atsumu calls, taking her attention from Kiyoomi. He smiles at her, makes a show of nuzzling Kiyoomi’s neck, lips pressing on the warm skin. Then he continues, smirking, “Haven’t ya watched the news? He’s taken.”

In a one eighty turn of attitude, Kana- _san_ scoffs, rolls her eyes, “A taken man can be stolen.”

Wait— Where did Atsumu hear that before? He furrows his brows and suddenly it _clicks_.

“Are ya Shiomi’s friend?” Atsumu asks and Kana- _san_ looks at him with curious eyes before nodding, shuffling on her feet. “Ya stole her line, ya know. I don’ think she’d like that.” She sputters and Atsumu smirks. He intertwines Kiyoomi’s free hand with his, slotting their fingers together perfectly. Kiyoomi squeezes it and Atsumu’s heart clenches, _in love_. “Besides, this guy is _mine_.”

She doesn’t seem to be surprised by that fact which means she _knows_ Kiyoomi is with him and— and she’s still trying to… get back together with him. Atsumu finds himself hating rich people even more. They seem to think they can get what they want in a heartbeat. And maybe, in normal circumstances with a normal person as her opponent, she would’ve won.

But this is Atsumu; annoying, a jerk with a nasty mouth on him.

And just to drive the fact that Kiyoomi _is_ indeed his, Atsumu climbs on Kiyoomi’s lap because _he can_ and he’s the one with Kiyoomi now and maybe _forever_. He’d never let Kiyoomi go, not right now, not _ever._

Kiyoomi settles Atsumu on his lap comfortably, hands on Atsumu’s ass, a firm touch. Atsumu knows Kiyoomi is rarely vocal to other people when it comes to his emotions but he makes up with it with actions that speaks more than words can describe. He’s doing it now, letting Atsumu settle whatever this _thing_ is between Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s ex. He sits there and holds Atsumu close, moves how Atsumu wants him, mouths on Atsumu’s neck, shameless.

“He’s mine,” Atsumu repeats, feeling like he needs to drive it in even further so her brain understands that stealing someone’s lover _is not_ a game nor an accomplishment to be proud of. “Right, love?” He turns to Kiyoomi, presses a light kiss on his lips. Kiyoomi nods, smiling at him. Then he turns to Kana- _san_ again and declares like a promise, “Ya can’t steal him away because this guy can never live without me. D’ya know how stupidly possessive this guy is? I don’t think so. Because the Kiyoomi ya know is _different_. This guy is _mine_. Ya can try stealing him—“ Kiyoomi bites his neck at those words and Atsumu rolls his eyes, pats his chest. “ _But_ he’ll come crawling back to me. He’s hopeless, ya see.”

“How annoying,” Kana- _san_ says, still brave after hearing Atsumu’s words. She looks at them with narrowed eyes, calculating.

“No, you’re annoying,” Kiyoomi retorts and Atsumu snorts. “Can you please go now? We’re busy.”

Kana- _san_ glares at Kiyoomi and that’s how Atsumu knows it’s not _feelings_ that makes her want Kiyoomi back. It’s _status_ and it’s the bragging rights. So she can say that she’s with Sakusa Kiyoomi, professional athlete, olympics medalist, son to a prominent family.

It’s not love.

How pitiful.

“Just—“ She breathes out, looks at Kiyoomi in defeat. “Call me.”

“No,” Atsumu smiles at her and because he’s a _jerk_ , says, “I own his phone too.”

Finally, after throwing Atsumu a wicked glare, she leaves, her friends having left her for the dance floor long ago. Sometimes, Atsumu wonders what drives people to act like that but then again, desperation is something Atsumu is too familiar with. He thinks he understands. He ignores the misplaced sympathy.

“Good job,” Kiyoomi tells him, pressing a kiss on the corner of Atsumu’s lips.

Atsumu glares at him, meets those dark eyes that he loves to stare at. He’s annoyed, jealousy still clouding his mind. Atsumu _knows_ Kiyoomi would never leave him just because an ex has come back but Atsumu doesn’t want to erase the possibility, the _maybe_.

“You,” Atsumu hisses, grips Kiyoomi’s face with both hands. “Yer fucking _dead_.”

And with that, Atsumu drags Kiyoomi across the dance floor and to the bathroom that is thankfully empty. There’s this annoying buzz in his brain that’s telling him to _do something_ , like make Kiyoomi pay for the stress that his ex has given Atsumu. It gnaws under his skin, this _jealousy_. He thinks this must be what Kiyoomi has felt when they met Kuroo in Tokyo.

Atsumu thinks he understands now.

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to let him off.

Really, when did Atsumu become so pathetic?

Maybe it’s the uncertainty of his love being _unrequited._ It’s a nagging in the back of his brain; like pulling petals from a flower, _he loves me, he loves me not_.

Pushing Kiyoomi against the far wall by the sink, Atsumu sinks to his knees, not caring about how filthy the bathroom floor is. He doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t care and so he unbuckles Kiyoomi’s belt, tugs his jeans and boxers down and envelopes Kiyoomi’s slowly hardening cock with his warm and wet mouth.

Kiyoomi lets out a loud groan, head thumping against the wall as he throws his head back and bucks into Atsumu’s tight mouth.

“‘tsumu,” Kiyoomi grips his hair, tugs on the strands harshly.

Atsumu looks up at him, lips stretched wide around his fat cock, tongue flat under his pulsing dick. The weight of Kiyoomi’s now fully hardened cock over his tongue is familiar, a good feeling that makes Atsumu moan against it. He hollows his cheeks, starts sucking the part of Kiyoomi’s cock that’s inside him. He bobs his head back and forth, sucking on the head, licking the pre-come oozing from it and spreading his saliva on the throbbing cock. He pulls back, pumps the wet cock with his hands and watches as Kiyoomi bites his lower lip, trying to prevent himself from making so much noise.

It’s futile, they both find out a second later when two guys comes barging in loudly and starts fucking choking on their own tongues when they see Atsumu swallow Kiyoomi’s cock completely, throat constricting around the head as he hums and blinks up at Kiyoomi. Atsumu would’ve pulled back if not for Kiyoomi fisting his hair tightly and starting to thrust inside his mouth. Atsumu can hear the guys let out curses before the door slams shut and they’re both left alone in the bathroom once again. He can’t even focus on that though because Kiyoomi is fucking his face hard and deep, eyes shutting tightly while Kiyoomi shoves his cock down Atsumu’s throat, making Atsumu gag over and over again. Saliva drips down the corner of Atsumu’s lips, trailing down his chin and to his neck. Atsumu shudders, swirls his tongue around the cock abusing his mouth.

Kiyoomi’s moans echoes in Atsumu’s ears and he blinks his eyes open, eyelashes clumping together as his eyes turns teary and wet. Atsumu meets Kiyoomi’s dark gaze while he hums around Kiyoomi’s cock and Kiyoomi’s hips stutters as he fucks into Atsumu’s mouth.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi moans, loud, echoing around the bathroom. “ _Fuck_ , so good. Your mouth feels amazing.”

Atsumu breathes in through his nose, chokes on Kiyoomi’s cock when Kiyoomi starts thrusting inside him shallowly. His nails digs on Kiyoomi’s thighs, fingers holding on tightly while he allows Kiyoomi to abuse his mouth, making his lips red and puffy.

The hold on Atsumu’s hair is tight, a little painful but Atsumu still manages to pull back from Kiyoomi’s hard cock, leaving his lips gaping and panting for air.

“Atsumu?” Kiyoomi flexes his fingers, tries to bring Atsumu’s mouth back towards his twitching and leaking cock.

“No,” Atsumu says, voice hoarse, tone almost petulant. “Ya have to beg me, OmiOmi.” He starts pumping Kiyoomi’s cock with his hand while his other hand makes quick work of his pants, shoving it down his hips quickly and fisting his own cock, pumping in the same pace as he’s stroking Kiyoomi’s cock.

Kiyoomi looks down at Atsumu, eyes desperate. He groans, bucks his hips up towards Atsumu’s face once again.

“Come on,” Atsumu presses teasing kitten licks on the head of Kiyoomi’s cock, letting his lips stretch around it. “Beg me, Omi. Ya want me ta swallow yer come?” Kiyoomi nods quickly, breathing heavily. His hips twitches as Atsumu licks a stripe from the tip of his cock to the base, face nuzzling the dark coarse hair sitting there. “Then ask nicely,” Atsumu murmurs against his cock, lips spread into a grin.

Kiyoomi licks his lips, breathes out, “Please, Atsumu. Let me come.”

“More,” Atsumu says before slowly taking Kiyoomi’s cock inside his mouth again. He hums around the throbbing dick, tastes the salty pre-come on his tongue.

“ _Please,_ babe.” Kiyoomi starts to thrust inside his mouth, shallow movements that has Atsumu moaning around his cock and pumping his own dick faster.

Atsumu allows Kiyoomi to slide his cock deeper inside his mouth until he’s pressed to the base, breathing in deeply. The nagging in Atsumu’s brain is replaced by arousal, an intense one that has his mouth tightening around Kiyoomi’s cock and has his own hips twitching as he presses on his own cock’s slit.

The moment Atsumu starts bobbing on Kiyoomi’s cock, Kiyoomi tightens his fingers around his hair and starts thrusting faster and deeper. Atsumu makes his jaw slack, careful of his teeth as Kiyoomi shoves his cock again and again inside Atsumu’s wet mouth. Saliva continues to drip down his chin but Atsumu doesn’t even care. He moans around Kiyoomi’s cock as he thrusts into his own hands, his cock hard and twitching in his hold. He follows Kiyoomi’s pace, pumping his cock in tandem with Kiyoomi’s thrusts.

Kiyoomi’s thrusts turns erratic, losing rhythm. He fucks Atsumu’s mouth a few more times before his hips stills and his cock spurts white come inside Atsumu’s mouth. Atsumu swallows, groaning and moaning around Kiyoomi’s twitching cock, feeling the warm and sticky liquid slide down his throat.

Atsumu continues to suck on Kiyoomi’s cock, milking his orgasm. He pumps his own cock faster chasing for his own release. When Kiyoomi’s hips twitches in oversensitivity, he pulls his cock from Atsumu’s mouth then presses his gloved fingers inside, thrusting and pressing on Atsumu’s tongue while Atsumu twitches as he feels his release slamming through him.

When Atsumu comes there’s a slam of the door and a loud _oh fuck, sorry_ followed by another slam of the door. Atsumu doesn’t focus on the sound and instead focuses on pumping his hands faster around his cock while it spurts white liquid on his hands and shirt. His hips stutters as he turns his fast strokes to slow ones and then to a full stop, body trembling while Kiyoomi continues to press his fingers on his tongue, tugging on the wet appendage and letting it go.

Atsumu whines and pulls back, panting heavily. He looks at Kiyoomi with wet eyelashes, flushed pink, red and puffy lips, cock now soft still on his hand.

“D-Did someone come in?” Atsumu asks, blush high on his cheeks.

Kiyoomi brushes his bangs out of his face and rubs his head, almost fond. “Yeah but they went out right away.”

Atsumu frowns, tucks his cock back into his pants and stands up, holding onto Kiyoomi for leverage. Kiyoomi does the same before helping Atsumu, holding him carefully.

“I didn’t plan this,” he says, looking to the side and seeing his reflection on the mirror.

_Oh_.

He looks like a mess.

“You didn’t but you wanted to…” Kiyoomi hesitates, furrows his brows. “Right?”

Atsumu watches his and Kiyoomi’s reflection, the way they contrast each other. Kiyoomi is all dark while Atsumu is a pop of colour.

“I was—“ Atsumu watches Kiyoomi’s reflection on the mirror. He breathes in, out, tries to force his heart to not beat out of his chest. “—annoyed.”

Kiyoomi reaches out, pulls Atsumu closer and turns him to look at him completely. Atsumu avoids his eyes, stares at the wall behind Kiyoomi. But Kiyoomi doesn’t like that and forces Atsumu to look at him, meeting his eyes straightforward.

“Were you jealous?” His voice is soft, almost soothing.

Atsumu sighs, nods, “A little.”

“You know I like you, right?”

_Like_.

“I like you too.”

Kiyoomi smiles, rubs soothing circles on the back of his hands. “And I will never leave you.”

“Me too.”

“So move in with me.”

“Me t—“

Wait.

“Ha?”

“Move in with me, Atsumu. You don’t need your apartment anymore. I’d love to wake up every morning with your face snoring in front of mine.” Kiyoomi smiles, pulls him closer.

Atsumu’s heart thuds wildly as he forces out, “I wake up before you.”

“And you can do that every morning on our bed,” Kiyoomi swallows, his throat bobbing loudly.

Atsumu watches him carefully, squeezes his hands and falls even deeper. “Okay,” he says, a soft whisper. Then repeats, “Okay. I’ll move in with you.”

“Good,” Kiyoomi grins, presses a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m happy.”

“Me too,” Atsumu replies, hugging Kiyoomi. “But you could’ve picked a better location to ask me this.”

Kiyoomi laughs, a hand coming up to rub up and down Atsumu’s back. “Well… it fit the mood.”

“What kind of mood were you feeling. You don’t have decency,” Atsumu huffs, rolling his eyes. His lips are pulled into a wide grin though, eyes sparkling in happiness.

The green eyed monster dwelling inside him has disappeared completely, replaced by content, a happiness he’s never known before. And it might be weird, the way they always pick the most random places when confessing or making big decisions but plans are overrated anyways.

This fits them more. This kind of chaotic love story that doesn’t follow any script.

Atsumu loves it. _Loves_ Kiyoomi.

He thinks he doesn't even need the flower petals anymore. He knows the answer already.

He can’t wait to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all liked it!!! there's 1 or 2 more chapters left (still considering if i want to combine day 31 with the rest aha) so,,, i'll see you next chap!!! thank you for joining me in this kinky journey of sakuatsu porn brainrot brr.... did i even make sense anyways, muax

**Author's Note:**

> comments&kudos are appreciated uwu  
> scream sakuatsu w me @ twitter: [eatsumus](http://twitter.com/eatsumus)


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